


Star Cursed

by Autumn_Ignited, SailUncharted



Series: The Sorcerer and His Dragon [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Keith (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Forced Bonding, Klance endgame, Lance Is A Furry (Voltron), M/M, Mage Lance (Voltron), Magical Bond, Sick Lance (Voltron), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, There Is Only One Bed, Witch's Familiar Keith (Voltron), or a scaly i guess, this thing is slow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 152,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22779799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumn_Ignited/pseuds/Autumn_Ignited, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailUncharted/pseuds/SailUncharted
Summary: A Dragon familiar is the last thing Lance expects to summon when he graduates lowest in the class at the Magerium. All he wants to do is summon a toad or a cat and get to work, but summoning a High Magic creature like a Dragon is something no one has done in hundreds of years. The Dragon, named Keith (why, WHY is he named Keith), is trained to be a familiar for the most powerful of mages. Unluckily for him, Lance is assigned the task of lesser potions master. Lance has to navigate a precarious balance of grumpy-Dragon-with-nothing-to-do on top of his workload of boring tasks. That’s when he isn’t enduring the ridicule of the other students, who believe him to be “Star Cursed.” To make matters worse, discontent in the Magerium is brewing and it might mean danger for all High Magic creatures, which currently includes one Dragon named Keith.
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: The Sorcerer and His Dragon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637872
Comments: 502
Kudos: 1127
Collections: Just some pretty nice fics, VLDfanfiction





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the fans returning to us from Ghosts or Christmas and welcome to all our new friends who want some dragon-filled fantasy! I hope all you wonderful readers enjoy some exciting dragon shenanigans and be sure to leave comments and kudos. We love each and every one of them <3
> 
> A note on characterization in this AU: you’ll notice that both Lance and Keith operate a little differently in this fic. Part of what we were exploring was how their personalities would be altered if Keith was the one raised by a loving family, and Lance was raised away from his (but in a situation where he was desperate to prove himself, do well, and please his mentors).  
> Lance especially is going to take a long time to open up into the boy we love...which is why there are multiple books in this AU >_>. Hope you enjoy the ride! 
> 
> Now you can get your own personalized fic [please check out our info](https://linktr.ee/sailunchartedwaters)
> 
> If you like us, check us out on Twitter where we post klance [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)
> 
> Title art by [Allexche11](https://twitter.com/Allexche11)

~🍄~

Spring

Lance stood in line with the other graduating apprentices, all wearing their yewberry circlets and eager to claim their familiars. The ones still waiting to graduate pressed close to the railing to see over each other’s heads so that they could get the best view of the summons. While the ceremony itself was a lot of pomp and bluster, there was still a general undercurrent in the chamber of excitement. 

Lance was not excited. 

Lance was terrified. 

He'd barely passed the exam to qualify as a royal mage, and if it weren't for his skill in potions, he would have been sweeping other people's shops for the rest of his life.

Which meant that he was about to become a laughing stock. As everyone else collected their fierce hawks, loyal wolves and wise bears, Lance was sure to summon a toad at best. 

To make matters worse, Shiro, the King’s Head Mage, was there to oversee the ceremony. It wasn’t unusual, he did it every year, but that wasn’t the point. Dressed in the official royal regalia of black and white, he was as striking as ever, and twice as imposing.

If there was one person Lance never wanted to look foolish in front of, it was the most powerful mage in the kingdom. Too bad that was precisely who was going to be watching him trip all over himself in just a few short minutes.

He just wanted to summon his toad and go home, but Head Elder Greeve kept droning on and on about the history they were meant to uphold. Proud traditions this and thousands of years that, the same rote speech he gave at nearly every official ceremony went ringing to the high ceiling in Greeve’s booming voice. 

"Hurry up," Lance mumbled under his breath, fidgeting as he picked at a loose thread in his tunic. 

The Chamber of Summoning was draped in the flag of the kingdom of Belwald, the cheerful colors making the otherwise dreary room look festive and proud. Red, yellow, green, and blue flags represented the four divisions of the Grand Magerium with the black seal of the king unifying them in the middle.They hung along the front of the staggered seating that led to the domed glass ceiling.

Behind them the Elders and Head Elders could watch from above like gods as each apprentice stepped forward one by one to summon their familiar. 

The apprentices would repeat the tradition from the center of the same summoning circle the Magerium had used for nearly a thousand years. It didn’t _look_ a thousand years old, having been swept and freshly retraced for the occasion by their seniors. The intricate runes of the spell were etched into the stone flooring and hummed with the residual magic of countless rituals. It buzzed between Lance’s ears and he wished he could cover them without being caught.

Greeve switched topics and rambled on and on about the bond between sorcerer and familiar, what a sacred thing it was, how privileged they were to experience it, and the rules of interacting with their beasts. It boiled down to, very sacred, the most privileged, and beasts were to serve in a mage’s work, they were not to become friends or worse.

The _worse_ was implied, but he knew what it meant. No using your beast for carnal pleasure. Pointless, no one would want to kiss a toad. Lance scuffed his slipper on the polished floor. He’d heard the speech so many times before that he could’ve given it himself, and the pomp and ceremony of it was starting to grate on his last fraying nerve. 

Lance stared at a statue of Hoile, goddess of the stars and gifter of magic to mortals. The paint on the marble was chipping away with time, which left her dark skin with flecks of white shining through like the stars she ruled over. Someone should really repaint all the statues.

Nine hells, even Nelare was looking worse for wear and she’d only been repainted a few years ago. Whose job was that, anyway? Was there a designated statue-repainter? Did it go to some unlucky apprentice? Probably not, with the way the scaffolding had to be-

Greeve punctuated the end of his speech with a snort and cough, knocking Lance out of his musings.

"Disgusting. Hurry up, you ol’ geezer," he hissed between his teeth. The short girl next to him jabbed an elbow into his side.

“Don’t be rude,” she hissed. It was followed by a glare that carried the unspoken _especially not_ YOU _of all people._ Lance’s mouth snapped closed and he rubbed his side. 

"Once the ritual is complete and you've summoned your familiar, it's important to establish the bond _immediately_ .” Elder Greeve gestured to the enormous carved doors in the back of the chamber. “We urge you to leave the grounds and complete the bond _away_ from the castle. Now, let us begin. May the Stars illuminate your path and may Hoile watch over you.” 

“And over you,” they said as one.

James, the tall boy that had given Lance so much trouble in his years as an apprentice, was up first. James looked almost identical to Lance with his long legs and curly brown hair, but frustratingly, was more popular and more talented. It didn’t help that he had the pedigree to match. Top of the class and graduating as a Master Wind Mage, Lance wished he would blow himself off a cliff. 

Raising his hands in the air, James released his magic and the circle lit up with the off-orangeish-white of his magic. With a _fizzlepop_ , a white rat scampered from the circle and into James’ arms.

James squeaked and wrinkled his nose in revulsion. Brushing the rat off, he went back to the ritual with a distinctly sour look. When no other animals rose to follow the rat, he turned to look at it with dawning, disgusted realization. 

Stiffly, he said a few words to bestow sentience and placed the circlet around the rat, doing his best not to touch the creature. Which was unfortunate, because even Lance had to admit the way the rat was wreathed in the yew was pretty cute.

The circle of magic flashed as a gust of wind carried the circlet off the rat, leaving a small ring around its neck instead. The circlet fell perfectly onto James’ head, and with another flash, it was gone. The summoning was complete. James used two fingers to carry his new familiar by the scruff, holding it as far from himself as possible.

Lance watched with a twisted glee as James sat, scowling at the dusty ground and pushing his rat away every time it tried to scamper up to him. 

After James, apprentice after apprentice stepped up to summon their familiars. Goats, ravens, bears, and wolves were among the most interesting. Most walked away with cats of various breeds including an impressively large Main Coon. None summoned anything close to Shiro’s beautiful puma, who sat serenely beside him, flicking its tail. 

The short girl was next and then it was Lance. 

“Wish me luck!” she chirped, grinning at him with wide gapped teeth.

“Good luck!” Lance said brightly as she walked away, following it up with, “Hope you get a cockroach.”

She stepped up to the circle, all confidence and snobbery. Her nose in the air, she recited the words and released her magic. It swirled up like a waterspout, encompassing the circle. The stone shone a greenish blue that made the whole room appear to be underwater.

An octopus as big as the girl herself squelched into existence, its tentacles slapping against the stone as it landed. Her confidence cracked as she crowned her massive, squishy familiar with shaking hands. As soon as the circlet touched the octopus, her face lit up with a bright smile. 

Not a cockroach, then. And maybe worse, she looked thrilled. 

Even through the envy, he couldn’t begrudge anyone a happy bond. Lance hoped that would happen to him, the tale of a perfect bond that felt so right you couldn’t imagine having ever been apart. It didn’t matter if he summoned a toad as long as their magic was in sync and they clicked as a team. The girl skipped off the platform, octopus in her arms as its tentacles slid along the floor.

It was Lance’s turn. He took a deep breath and let it out in a slow, steady stream.

The summoning circle shifted from a dormant, deep purple to active blue as he stepped on the outer line. Little motes of blue light began to rise like reverse snow, and with it came a breeze that ruffled Lance’s ceremonial tunic and threatened to knock the delicate circlet from his head. He stared down into the yawning chasm full of clear blue light, raised his hand, and tried not to throw up. 

For a long time -longer than any of the other apprentices- nothing happened. Lance could feel sweat prickling along his hairline and sliding into his collar as voices began to murmur around him.

His last name, the words _Star Cursed,_ and the general rumble of disapproval he was so painfully used to. 

_Oh no. Please, even a toad, just a gnat, anything. Stars, please._

As if Hoile herself had heard his plea, the ground began to shake. The sand and stones of the summoning chamber floor went skittering around and several apprentices lost their footing. 

“Wait,” he said nonsensically, struggling to hold his portal and stay standing at the same time. “Don’t-”

From the middle of the blue summoning circle came a long stream of fire. It shot up to the stone ceiling and scattered along the dome, sending embers and soot raining down to the audience below. A few caught Lance’s tunic and fizzled uselessly into ash.

Rising from the floor, bathed in blue light, came a narrow muzzle, tapered horns, a long neck, a powerful body, and finally, enormous bat-like wings. 

Shouts of alarm and disbelief erupted from elders all around the room, echoing off the stone walls, mingling with the panicked screaming of the apprentices. Lance threw his hands up to protect his face as flames licked passed him.

Not a single one burned.

Instead, they were like warm feathers brushing against his skin, tickling his cheeks and arms but doing no harm. The people around him didn’t seem so lucky as they smothered and stamped out small fires from their clothes and hair.

With a piercing roar that made the candlelight shiver and several stones fall from the ceiling, a ruby-red dragon came to rest in front of Lance with a heavy thud. The heat from its huffing breath made the air hazy between them.

It fixed him with a golden, intelligent gaze, considering him. Then it lowered its head in deference to him. 

The room went silent.

Lance stared open-mouthed and disbelieving at the creature he’d summoned, arms lowering in awe. The spell to grant sentience was stuck on his tongue. Dragons, the far corners of his brain reminded him, were already sentient and he therefore had nothing left with which to gift this familiar.

_His familiar._

Then the rest of his brain caught up because - dragon. 

Dra. Gon.

_Oh Stars._

He’d summoned a _DRAGON_. 

“Well met to thee my Master.” The words Lance had now heard nearly twenty times sounded so much more impressive and resonant from the dragon than it had from the cats and bears. It rumbled through him, deep in his own chest, and made the tips of his fingertips buzz.

“As the old magic has bidden, I have been chosen as bonded to thee until the ground reclaim my bones. My life is thy due, my body, thy vessel, my service, thy sword.” It - he? - kept his head bowed and his eyes closed as he waited for Lance to complete the ceremony.

The awful, oppressive silence rang louder than the cacophony of his summoning. The whole room stared at the flesh-and-blood High Magic dragon sitting serenely in the center of the Mageirum floor, too shocked to truly react. 

Greeve coughed, cutting through the silence before grumbling, “Get on with it.”

That prodded Lance into action. He lifted his arms to draw the seal that would finish the binding and opened his mouth to speak his half of the incantation. 

He didn’t have the chance.

From the dais came the belated, disbelieving shout of “Wait!” 

The dragon lifted its head, noticeably confused as it sought out the voice. 

Lance leaned to look around the huge dragon to see Shiro jogging down to the summoning circle. To Lance’s horror, he didn’t stop. With all the confidence and privilege of the King’s Mage, Shiro stepped directly into it. The blue light was interrupted everywhere Shiro touched, coloring it violet.

“Hey!” Lance frowned at the King’s Mage who had rudely interrupted and brought the whole ceremony to a grinding halt. He hadn’t even said his part of the ritual and here Shiro was, mixing his magic with Lance’s. Interrupting the ritual was forbidden, he knew; Greeve went on about that bit for a good candlemark. “You can’t do that,” he said, more stunned at the audacity than angry.

“Forgive me,” Shiro said quietly as he came to a stop next to them both. “It’s just…Keith?”

“Who’s Keith?” Lance blinked. 

“Shut up, Shiro,” the dragon hissed, little firefly sparks of flame shooting from its mouth. “You knew today was a summoning.” 

Shiro shook his head to clear it and smiled at Lance, lowering his voice. “This is quite the familiar you’ve called. Wouldn’t I know, I raised him from an egg - but let’s keep that between us, alright? This is Keith.” 

Lance winced. Who named a dragon _Keith_? Shiro was beyond eccentric. 

“I can talk,” Keith the dragon said. 

“Congratulations, apprentice!” Shiro stepped back and raised his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Forgive my interruption. We simply haven’t seen a dragon summoned in nearly three centuries.” Shiro’s hand on Lance’s shoulder was heavy, the wooden fingers curling awkwardly at the joint. “We’ll be expecting great things from you!” 

“Yeah…” If Lance didn’t already feel like a total loser already, now he’d probably summoned the _wrong_ familiar. There was no way this dragon belonged to _him._ He swallowed, eyeing Shiro and then the Elders. Should he just...finish? With Shiro standing right there? “Uh, should I?” 

Shiro nodded encouragingly. “Of course. He won’t bite.” Then a whispered, “Usually.” 

The dragon rolled his eyes.

“Sure, okay.” Lance waited a moment but Shiro didn’t leave the circle. Resigned to his fate, he lifted his arms and drew the seal in liquid blue. “Well met to thee my Familiar,” his voice came out small and shaky, not at all like a sorcerer worthy of a dragon. “As the old magic has bidden, I bind our fates together until my last breath.”

He removed his circlet and held it up between them. It glowed with the particular shade of marine blue that was a mark of Lance’s soul, but now it was joined by a rich, fiery red. 

“Our souls are entwined and cannot be severed, not even should death itself seek to destroy us.” With a final flourish, the bond was complete. Burnt ash fell away from the yew circlet and the berries imploded into flowers. The soft, yellow flowers detached and fluttered down to join the ash as the wood curled backward, turning green. A Sorcerer’s circlet. Lance was about to crown Keith’s head with it but stopped, the supple wood floating just above tapered golden horns.

This wasn’t some cat or bear. Dragons were already sentient - no, not just sentient. Wise. Ancient. Crowning a creature like this as a familiar? It would be like turning a person into a pet. Or worse. 

He wavered, looking up to the Elders for guidance. 

Keith’s head lifted on its own to meet the circlet. As his scales touched wood, the air was sucked from Lance’s lungs. He gasped, internally hurtled into the fathomless red of the dragon’s magic. It was a volcano, with veins that dug towards the center of the earth right into a pool of mana so deep that it bubbled with the energy of creation itself. 

Lance stared up in fear of the _monster_ before him. Something was wrong. _All_ of this was wrong. There was no way this dragon could be bound to a lesser mage like him. He was barely a step up from a magicless alchemist, and Keith was _magic incarnate_.

The pupils of Keith’s eyes disappeared for a moment, then shone with a blue so bright and pure it was impossible to look at them directly. The dragon reared up, wings spreading wide as the light threaded itself through veins and arteries. It traveled across his large body before pooling in a bright blue sphere in his belly. Once the light dimmed, Keith’s red returned and he relaxed his stance, regarding Lance curiously.

A green ring shone bright against Keith’s scales, a mirror of the circlet in Lance’s hands. The ring flashed and faded into his soul, becoming one with Keith. 

Lance swallowed and with shaking hands, placed the Sorcerer's circlet on his own head. The soft wooden band felt like a promise of safety and warmth that did not fade when his circlet, too, flashed and vanished.

The link between them was no longer a physical symbol made of yew; it was forged in magic and stronger than any physical bond. They were made one. Lance was tied to this dragon in a way he’d never been tied to anyone and never would be again. 

Shiro smiled at them both and began to step back before a thought seemed to occur to him. He leaned in to shake Lance’s hand, but pulled him close enough to whisper, “Be sure to come visit the palace before early winter. I can help you handle certain...obstacles you’ll encounter.” Then he gave Lance’s hand a friendly squeeze before leaving the summoning platform. Patting his leg, his puma bounded over to his side, flicking its ears in amusement.

Keith’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. He glanced between Lance and Shiro and back again as Shiro returned to his place next to Elder Greeve.

“Kei-” He coughed. “Keith?” The name felt foreign and wrong in his mouth. “We should…” Lance had imagined this day in every scenario possible, but not once, in all his wildest daydreams, did he think that he would be walking out of this room with a creature so extraordinary they were thought to be extinct. “We’re supposed to go, uh, bond.” 

Keith turned his great head to look at Lance - fixing him with the full force of his powerful gaze. After a long moment of silence, he released Lance by closing his golden eyes and bowing his head in acknowledgment. “Master.” 

That...was going to take some getting used to.

Lance turned as he stepped out of the summoning circle to make way for the next apprentice, side-eyeing Shiro as he did. Shiro gave him a small wave and a smile that made Lance want to growl. King’s Mage or not, what right did he have to be so intrusive? Interrupting the circle and giving this dragon such a stupid name… The familiarity of it all set him on edge for reasons he did not have the luxury to examine at the moment. 

Because that had actually just happened. He, Lance Fuentes of Metrella, Lesser Potions Master and Star Cursed, had bonded with an actual, flesh and blood dragon. 

Named Keith. 

Next to him, Keith was expressionless and serene. 

Well. Lance drew in a bolstering breath and blew it out in a rush. If his dragon could appear unphased, Lance could at least attempt to do the same. 

~🍄~

The grounds of the Grand Magerium were littered with newly-bonded pairs in the middle of their bonding ceremonies. Mostly, the colorful bursts of magic had wound down and masters and familiars were lounging around talking and getting to know one another.

Often, the talking part involved the animals exploring their newfound sentience by yelling things and delighting in the fact that their human companions could understand. This was especially true for the dogs, and as Lance and Keith passed, a chorus of labradors and terriers began to yell “BIG! BIG, MASTER, LOOK!” as they practiced and pranced. 

“It’s loud,” Keith grunted. “How is anyone supposed to bond with all these obnoxious animals chattering away like morons?”

Lance stood on his tippy toes to try and find any space a dragon could fit. “It’s crowded, too. We might have to wait ‘til some of these people leave.”

Keith snorted and the impatient sound was accompanied by twin puffs of black smoke from his nostrils. “That’s stupid. Why don’t we just go somewhere inside the castle?” 

“We’re not supposed to do it in the castle.” Lance spotted James with his rat walking away from where he’d been sitting away from the main group. “Plus the castle is too small to do the ceremony.”

“Not all of it.”

That was the only warning Lance received before he was picked up like a kitten by his tunic as Keith took off into the sky. The wind of his wings beating hard to lift them startled the other familiars, and their flight was announced by, “UP! FLY! MASTER! WHERE GO? GOODBYE!” and Lance’s scream.

He did not cease screaming until Keith tucked his wings and dived down through an enormous chimney, corkscrewing them through the tunnel and erupting into someone’s very large, very well-appointed private chambers. He spat Lance out on the rug and shook himself from head to toe to be rid of the soot. 

“There,” he said, quite pleased with himself. “No more dogs, and lots of rugs.” 

Lance’s hair stuck straight up and from the green tint to his face, he looked as if he was about to ruin one of those rugs. He held his stomach and swayed. “Don’t,” he said, eyes fixed on the ground, scared that it would slip out from under him, “ever do that again.”

Keith looked annoyed, raising an eyeridge. Then the expression shifted into careful neutrality and he bowed his head. “Yes, Master.” 

“Lance,” Lance said, falling onto all fours as he tried to keep the contents of his stomach from joining him there. “You can just call me Lance.”

Keith’s yellow eyes narrowed and his ears flattened. “Wh...no. I can’t...Shiro said that to call your Master by his first name is to disrespect the bond entirely.” 

“That’s stupid.” Finally, his stomach leveled out and was no longer in danger of soiling the rug. He didn’t feel great, but at least he felt better. Straightening, he met Keith’s eyes. “I said it’s fine.”

“And I heard you,” Keith shot back. “Master.”

Lance glared, snapping his mouth shut. A dragon wasn’t going to be like a toad. He needed to have patience. Smoothing his hair back, only to have it poof again, he reached across with his magic. Streams of blue arced from his fingers. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Get it _over_ with?” Keith sucked in his side, avoiding the touch of the blue light and circling around Lance. On all fours and hunched over, he looked like he was stalking prey. Lance startled as his tail smacked a table as it flicked, knocking it over. “I didn’t realize you had somewhere more important to be.”

“I don’t.” Lance spun around, dispelling the magic. “This is what we broke into someone’s room for, right? To have space for the bonding. That’s the whole point.”

“It’s _my room_ ,” Keith shot back, rolling his eyes. “Or at least the sitting room. This is Shiro’s tower. My home. So no, we didn’t _break in_ , and we have plenty of time.” 

That made Lance pause. He’d never seen any living space of the higher ranked mages and he’d probably never get another chance to. It wasn’t like he’d ever make it past _lesser_ mage anyway. “This is Shiro’s?”

“And mine,” Keith reminded him. 

“He’s the King’s Mage.”

Keith’s brow furrowed. “Uh huh…?”

“That was my dream before, well, anyways. It doesn’t matter. Shiro’s a legend. He’s never even spoken to me ‘til today and now I’m in his room.”

“His sitting room.” Cocking his head to regard Lance, Keith eventually settled for, “I’ve never really thought of Shiro as King’s Mage. I couldn’t leave the tower often, so I only know him as just Shiro. My broodmaster. Sometimes he forgets to wear socks and he can burn tea.”

Lance took one more spin to take in _Shiro’s_ tower. “You’re not going to like what’s about to happen.”

Now Keith looked a bit concerned. “Why? Does it...does it hurt?”

“What…? No! I mean, I don’t know. Wait. The bonding ceremony shouldn’t hurt, no.” Lance shook his head, his cheeks growing warm. “What I’m _trying_ to say is, I’ve been accepted to become a lesser potion’s master. The dormitories will barely fit me and they certainly won’t fit you.”

“What is a lesser potion’s master?” Keith’s long snout wrinkled. “Why do you need more than one kind of potion maker?” 

Lance prickled. “Because! You just do, okay?” He crossed his arms in a huff. “Why does the King’s Mage need a dragon?”

“He didn’t _need_ one,” Keith scoffed. “He just found my egg without any kind of nest so he knew I wouldn’t hatch otherwise. He studies all kinds of high magic creatures. I guess getting my egg to hatch was sort of an experiment at first but...I know he cares about me. He’s been a good trainer and broodmaster.” 

“Yeah…” Lance eyed Keith, wary of what kind of reaction the dragon would have to his new job. “I bet he has. But, now you’re mine so you’re not going to get to live in a fancy tower or help with studies of High magic. You’re going to fetch bottles and find ingredients.”

A series of unidentifiable emotions twisted Keith’s features before he seemed to school himself into impassivity. “If that is what you wish of me, then that is what I will do.” It came out so quick and practiced, it was clearly a line Keith had been made to repeat countless times before.

“Well, okay.” Lance sighed, running his hand through his tangled hair again. “Good. Then, you’re ready?”

“Yes, Master.” Keith’s tone was clipped. He made a few circles before settling on the rug, tucking his wings in and watching Lance for direction. 

Lance stepped onto the rug and held up his hands, sending blue tendrils out.

Keith closed his eyes and did the same, flickering wisps of red curling outward to meet with Lance’s. The two colors met, sparking with light wherever they brushed along each other before beginning to leak into a light lavender. 

As their mana mixed, Lance could feel Keith’s essence pushing at the corner of his awareness. The walls around his mind came down and hesitantly slipped into Keith’s mind. It was raw and overwhelming, as it had been during the Summoning. It was like standing inside an enormous bell as it was rung, the vibrations humming down every vein, shaking him open and apart and filling him with unfamiliar, prickling heat. 

The “heat” must have been Keith, which meant that Keith could likely feel him as well. Feel the completeness of his mediocrity. Lance curled back instinctively. 

If only he’d summoned a toad. A toad wouldn’t be disappointed in a lesser potions master.

From a place that was within him but around him and outside of him, Lance felt...he wasn’t sure what it was, but it wasn’t pleasant. The sensation of pulling back. Rejection. Confusion. Frustration. Anger. _It wasn’t supposed to be like this._

This was exactly what he was scared of happening. Now Keith knew how imbalanced they were; how weak he was. There was a heavy rumbling as a warped disturbance grew between them. Their mana met and repelled, sending sparks into the air and knocking several books and bottles from the nearby shelves.

With a loud _crack,_ the magic between them exploded, sending Lance sliding back across the rug and Keith ducking his head under a wing.

“Mast-ow.” Keith stood too quickly, smacking his wing against the tea table. He blinked through the ozone and white smoke. “Master? Are you alright?”

Lance coughed and winced as he sat up. Everything stung, but nothing seemed broken. He brushed an ember from his breeches before it could catch. “I think so. What happened?”

“I...I don’t know.” For a dragon that commanded half of the room, Keith seemed suddenly small. He’d drawn in on himself, eyes scanning around, confused and almost frightened. “It’s supposed to work. It always works. The Old Magic never makes mistakes.” 

“Are you sure it didn’t work? Maybe that’s what happens.”

“No. No, that can’t be right.” Keith paced, tail thrashing. Several more books and a vase of flowers fell victim to its violent movement. “Shiro said...Shiro said that it...this can’t be right.” 

“How do you know? Have you ever done it before?” Lance stood as his anger grew. 

“Of course not!” The outburst was accompanied by curls of flame leaking through Keith’s sharp teeth. 

The heat singed the tip of Lance’s nose. “Then maybe we did it! Our magic is supposed to mix and we did that. If no one fails at this, then that means we did it right.”

That made Keith halt his pacing. “...That...does sort of make sense.” His frown deepened and he turned his head, unsure of where to look or what to do with himself. “It’s just...not what..nevermind.” 

“Not what? Not what Shiro said?” Lance bent in a mocking bow. “Well, I’m sorry that I’ve disappointed you. You should get used to the feeling.”

Keith froze. His body went so rigid that he was trembling, aside from the increasingly deep, angry breaths he was drawing in through his nose, heating the air around them. He opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again.

Finally, unable to find anything he could do or say to that, he turned and pushed off, flapping hard enough to send several pieces of furniture toppling as well as Lance. Then he flew up, straight through the top of the battlement, which rippled before the illusion of stone ceiling settled back into place. 

Lance didn’t even have time to appreciate the intricate magic an illusion like that would take - he was too busy looking around at the remnants of the King’s Mage’s sitting room and feeling dismally sorry for himself. He hadn’t meant to hurt Keith like that, and now the image of Keith’s angry, wounded expression was seared into his memory. 

Par for the course, he told himself, setting the toppled vase on the tea table and trying to arrange the crushed flowers so they would look at least somewhat untouched. They wilted from the residual heat until he fluttered his fingers above them, coaxing water back into their stems and petals. 

Once again, he’d fucked something up, let someone else down when they’d been counting on him. It was about the only thing he could reliably do. 

Lance sat down and watched the very solid looking ceiling until the fear of being caught in Shiro’s quarters overrode his need to wait for Keith. He sighed, glancing around. There was no way he could leave the same way Keith had. 

Sneaking his way out of the rooms and down the tower, Lance retreated to his brand new dorm. That should have been exciting. Today in general should’ve been a good day. He should’ve been excited to finally be in the mage’s dorms as an official sorcerer of the Magerium.

Slamming the door shut, he fell onto his bed, too upset to even appreciate that it held an actual mattress instead of the straw pallet he’d been sleeping on for years.

He didn’t cry. He didn’t mourn the terrible way everything had unfolded with Keith. He didn’t even sniffle himself to sleep. He wasn’t a child anymore. Burying his face into his brand new pillow, he wiped his eyes on the scratchy cloth. 

So be it, he told himself. He’d gone this long without a familiar; he’d be fine without one now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sail: Here it is, the long-awaited dragon story, so uh. yeah this is a BIG BOI we've finished book 1 & book 2 and are writing book 3 of this, i guess it's a trilogy? though autumn insists it's going to be 4 books <_< i̶ ̶s̶a̶y̶ ̶i̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶3̶ ̶b̶o̶o̶k̶s̶ we'll see who ends up right (funny story, this monster was born from a NSFW picture by NSF-Ko with lance/adam i think, and i saw it and i was like *autumn, dragon dick, now.* and they happily obliged me for THREE BOOKS s̶o̶ ̶f̶a̶r̶ None of which actually have any dragon dick in them. So How this will work is: book 1, 2, and 3 will all be T (though violence will increase) then, at the end in a separate stand-alone fic, we will deliver dragon dick m̶o̶n̶s̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶d̶i̶c̶k̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶t̶u̶r̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶i̶n̶t̶o̶ ̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶b̶r̶a̶n̶d̶ all the people underage or squicked out by that, don't worry, that won't be in this story, the smut will stay separate, to all the people who want it, sorry you have to wait forever
> 
> *pokes fingers together* So, this is late (along with all my other personal fics) because my kitten Ra passed away and I've just been too...It's been a lot, thanks to Autumn for helping me hold it together and thanks to our beta NASA is a satanic cult for pushing me through it, you two are the real mvps
> 
> Autumn: “Hey y’all, hope you’re buckled up, because this sucker is looooong. I also happen to think it’s my favorite we’ve done so far. As always, we thrive on talking to people and comments. Hit us up on Twitter and say hi.  
> Special thanks to @caeseria_nsfw for taking a look at this first part and coaching me through a couple of edits/letting me rant”
> 
> A wild [link tree has appeared](https://linktr.ee/sailunchartedwaters) try clicking it to get your own fic for you!
> 
> [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sail: I'm sorry, i made an oopsie, i forgot to tag shadam when posting ch1, it's been updated and now you've all been officially notified!
> 
> If you like us, check us out on Twitter where we post klance and do polls for stories and tropes you want to see next: [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

~🍄~

Spring

The sky glowed milky blue with the unrisen sun. The birds had decided that was good enough for them and chirped their incessant morning love songs. Lance blinked into the dim light, his fire having turned to ash while he slept. 

“Shut up,” he muttered to the birds, but they very selfishly chose to ignore him.

The familiarity of an unfamiliar room made his sluggish mind unnerved. It was like someone had come in while he’d slept and moved everything two feet to the right. The room was full of his stuff, but it was all in the wrong places and the room was too small.

Gone were the student bunks and study tables. The walls were bare since he didn’t own any tapestries or paintings. He almost missed the embroidered lion that used to stare down at him with uneven eyes. Almost.

There were too many nights he’d stared up at that lion and almost grabbed a needle and thread to fix its crooked gaze.

 _Day one._ He sighed at that thought as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Sitting up with a stretch, he shuffled into his slippers. 

His familiar hadn’t come back last night, not that he probably knew where the dorms were. He’d most likely slept soundly in his comfy chambers full of rugs and a giant hearth. Was a familiar allowed to just…refuse? Maybe if they were High Magic, it was possible. 

It wasn’t like the Magerium could force familiars into service. After the bonding, they couldn’t be far apart for very long, otherwise both Master and Familiar would waste away. But that was the only limitation placed on them. The Magerium and the castle were close enough that the restriction would never become a problem. He sighed and set to stoking the fire.

After a simple breakfast of toasted bread and cheese, he pulled out his new robes. They were dyed blue with beading around the neck and made of soft wool. A sash of white and blue that tied around the waist marked him as a Lesser Potions Master of the King. 

He stared down at it for a moment. Lesser or no, he was still a Magi in service to the King of Belwald. His dream come true.

Lance pulled it on and got ready, taking extra care with his appearance for his first day. Every time a door slammed in the hallway, his heart skipped a beat. He’d look up from brushing his hair or tying his sash to see if the dragon had found his way back. 

There were a few times he was tempted to check their link and see if his familiar was even close. He stopped himself every time.

It was invasive to follow the bond like it was a leash; that wasn’t what it was for. It was for the sharing and storing of magic. Of course, he wasn’t powerful enough to use High Magic and he didn’t have so much that he’d ever need to store his mana. It was best to leave the bond alone.

By the time he was shutting the door to his room and walking to the Mage’s tower, the sun was peeking over the mountains. There were still two solid candlemarks before he had to report to Elder Jori for his tasks, maybe he could just…

Lance came to a halt. He couldn’t go into the tower and he definitely couldn’t walk up and knock on _Shiro’s_ door. 

So, instead, he sat outside and waited. Exactly two candlemarks he waited for anyone to come out. No one. Not even the puma exited the tower. With a sigh, he stood from where he’d sat on the floor and jogged to the storeroom.

He’d try again tomorrow. 

~🍄~ 

Shiro & Adam

A few days after Keith’s sudden reappearance, Adam had to insist that Shiro leave the boy alone and resume his duties as King’s Mage, lest anyone come investigating the supposed “illness” Shiro claimed to have.

Even if Shiro insisted on keeping close, it wasn’t as if either of them saw Keith much. When he’d swooped through the ceiling on the evening of the Summon, looking as if he might murder an entire village or break down and cry, they knew better than to push. The most either of them had gotten out of Keith was that his bonding hadn’t gone well. Since then, he’d been locked in his old room, only emerging now and then for food or to grunt at them as he made his way to the privy. 

It was Shiro’s worst fear. He’d expected that Keith would be Summoned by someone who treated him politely but whose feelings would never go any further. To think the bonding had gone _badly_ made him sick with worry. What sort of person did that make the skinny little water mage who’d summoned him? Adam always insisted that the Old Magic never made mistakes, but Shiro had to wonder. 

He looked at the solid wood of Keith's door as Adam tugged on the strings of his robes. "I should check on him." 

“Sh-oh,” Adam said around the strings in his teeth before spitting them out so he could chastise his lover. “He’s not a child. If he needs something, he knows to ask.”

“I can hear you,” came Keith’s sullen voice, muffled by the thick wood. 

“Also, he can hear you.” 

"At least drink water, and try to go hunting. Being in your room all day isn't healthy." 

“Bye, Shiro,” came the pointed reply. Adam looked up at him with an expression that, even from a puma, clearly conveyed ‘I told you so.’ 

To ease the wrinkles in Shiro’s brow, Adam nudged Shiro’s thigh with the top of his head, rubbing along his leg and padding over to the door. “Come, love. You’re going to be late.” 

Shiro took the moment to run his hand down the tan fur of his familiar's back, letting his strong presence calm him. He was better than this, Keith wasn't a child anymore and he couldn't solve his problems for him. "I don't envy Elder Trevaine today. The death count came back from the last raid." 

He let Adam take the lead and did his best not to look at the shut door as he left. 

“Trevaine was a fool.” Adam shook his head and the fur on his shoulders prickled. “She knew very well that entire ‘expedition’ was nothing but a death trap. The reports were very clear. It’s simply that no one seems inclined to _heed_ them.” 

“Hush,” Shiro said as he bit his own tongue to keep from badmouthing Trevaine. She meant well, he was sure of it, she just didn’t understand the reality of the world beyond her cozy castle lifestyle. “I’m worried what the others will do about it.” Shiro let go of Adam’s back as they rounded the corner from their private tower to the open castle.

“You mean,” said Adam, flat and cold, “that you are concerned by the fact that the others will do nothing at all. Another group of mages will quietly disappear from the Tower and not a soul will question their absence.” 

“ _I’m_ questioning and I’m sure the others are concerned. It won’t be dropped.”

“I pray you are correct,” Adam replied, in a tone that made it clear he wasn’t holding out hope. 

“Have you at least heard back from Annalys?”

“I have. She would like us to hear what Alfor has to say first before she brings you her report. Luckily, she and her familiar both returned unharmed.” 

“That’s never-” A few apprentices turned the corner at the end of the hallway, laughing and leaning close to whisper before breaking into half-stifled giggles. As soon as the tallest raised her head and saw Shiro with Adam, she quickly hushed her companions. They all clutched their books and looked at the floor, hurrying past with hastily offered murmurs of, “Stars illuminate, King’s Mage.” 

“Illuminated paths to you,” Shiro said, nodding as they passed.

Once they had gone by, Adam glanced up at Shiro in amusement. “If only they knew how badly you snore.” He swished his tail against Shiro’s leg. 

“I don’t snore, I _sleep soundly_.” Shiro flicked his ear. His finger lingered on the top of Adam’s head for a moment longer than it should have. “Once the meeting is over I want you to find Oriax and get that report from Annalys.”

“Yes, Master.” Adam purred at the touch. 

Shiro opened the door and let Adam walk ahead of him into the council room. Unlike the massive Throne Room, the council chambers were close and comfortable, with several dark green hunting tapestries and chairs of mahogany wood. The majority of the room was taken up by an enormous table that was currently playing host to several open maps.

Most of the council of Elders were already seated around it, talking quietly amongst themselves. Alfor sat at the head of the table, rubbing his forehead as he scanned over a pile of parchment in front of him. 

“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing to King Alfor and to the Elders. “May the Stars illuminate your path.”

“And yours,” Alfor said, standing to smile at him. “Ah, you’ve brought your familiar for some fresh spring air, I see. Such a magnificent beast.”

Adam sat gracefully and preened. 

"Kind as always, Your Majesty." 

Alfor swept his hand to the empty chair beside him.“How are you feeling, Master Magi?”

Shiro smiled cordially and took his seat. "Your success at another summoning ceremony is something we should all celebrate, but I'm not looking forward to Elder Trevaine's report." 

The King chuckled. “While your flattery is, as always, appreciated if undue, I was referring to your recent illness.” 

"Oh, yes, of course. I'm much recovered." 

Alfor sank back into his chair with a nod. “Excellent. I am glad to hear it.” 

Before he’d finished his sentence, Elder Trevaine entered, followed by Elders Jori and Sanders. They greeted everyone present with the usual cordiality, most of whom, it seemed, were awfully unconcerned by the news they were about to receive. 

They sat themselves by rank until all chairs were full. Shiro was thankful that his rank allowed him to sit next to Alfor. His relationship with the Elders was not warm to say the least. 

"Let us get this over with," Alfor said. His scribe scratched the words next to him and looked up eagerly to record their meeting. "Don't write that part, boy. Cross it out. That's a good lad." He cleared his throat. "The supply expedition, Elder Trevaine, what has become of it?" 

Trevaine stood to the sound of quill on parchment. “My liege,” she began. “Terrible news, I’m afraid. The expedition of magi we sent South was set upon by rabid beasts of some sort along the road. All lives lost, save three. Tragic, tragic. Now what remains is to decide how best to recover the supplies they were meant to be fetching.” She handed over the report. 

"Very tragic. Have the church fire lit for all to see and the priests call upon the Goddesses to carry their souls." Alfor scanned the report and placed it aside. 

Shiro tried to read the report over Alfor’s shoulder, but it was gone so fast, he doubted even the King had read the first line. "Was Iverson among the three survivors?" 

“Unfortunately no, Master Magi,” Elder Trevaine said with a long sigh. “Shieldmaster Iverson was among the first down. Why do you ask?”

“That’s our fifth Shieldmaster. How many of these supply missions have been attacked?” Shiro tried to bite back his rage at everyone’s dismissal of magi lives. “Ten! In so many days! There’s no way that there is some beast out there with a taste for magi expedition trains.” Well, that wasn’t the best example of patience he’d ever managed.

There was a grounding warmth when Shiro felt a lick against his palm, followed by Adam leaning against him. The heat of Shiro’s anger fizzled out, replaced by weariness. He was just...so very tired. Letting his knuckles brush Adam’s soft fur, he glared at the Elder mage.

Trevaine shifted under his scrutiny. “It is more than one beast, Master Magi. Reports say that most of the creatures appear feral - bears and wolves and such.”

“Sire,” Shiro said, voice calming down with Adam’s help. “May I request more than a Shieldmage be sent on the next supply mission?”

Alfor looked aside at him and then back at the report on the table. “You may be right, Shiro, but with the reports of unrest along our borders in Daibazaal, I hesitate to allocate our magi anywhere else. Should Zarkon attack…” He trailed off, visibly aging where he sat as he rubbed his forehead once more with a sigh. 

“Your Majesty, if I may,” Elder Greeve stood and motioned for Trevaine to sit. “While these losses are certainly a setback, what the King’s Mage fails to see in his youth is that our border must be protected at all costs. I suggest a hunting team be sent out to look for the beasts and if they find nothing, then we take our punishment from the Goddesses and move on? Does that satisfy you, King's Mage?”

"Lives are not setbacks-" Shiro clicked his mouth shut at Adam's head nudge. 

“Our border shall be protected,” Alfor said sternly. “We did not wage the war simply to let our nation be taken from us.” He turned to Shiro. “Well? Could the Tower spare a few magi to accompany a hunting team before the next expedition launches?” 

It had been his suggestion, but he also knew that whoever he sent was possibly being condemned to death. "I believe General Kolivan would know better than I. I'll send for him later and see if Firemage Ezor can be spared. A Shieldmage and a Firemage should be enough to hold off a feral beast." 

Greeve scoffed. “Kolivan is Daibazaali, we cannot trust him and his band of outcasts.” 

“Indeed, General Kolivan is a respected refugee, but surely, Majesty, he is not suited for such a task.” Elder Herren squinted through his spectacles at Shiro

Elder Sanders’ soft voice joined Trevaine in defending the general. “Kolivan has proved his loyalty to the crown, there is no reason not to send him or his troops.” 

The Elders broke out arguing amongst themselves.

“Silence,” Alfor commanded. “We’ve trusted Kolivan to protect the realm all these years, and he has given nothing but his best effort. If the King’s Mage trusts him, then so do I. Shiro, see that it’s done.” 

Shiro bowed in his seat and the Elders grumbled as they settled down. 

“Now, with that out of the way,” Trevaine continued, “some concerns were raised about the entertainment for the High Spring Ball…”

The meeting dragged on for another candlemark, with far more time given to the sort of sweets to be served at the ball and the best way to enchant a chandelier than with the loss of the supply train. It felt...strange. Unsettling.

While incidents that cost Magi lives were certainly not unheard of, it was only in the past several seasons that these incidents failed to be properly analyzed or discussed. The Elders were “elder” for a reason, but certainly none of them had progressed so far into old age that the gravitas of the situation slipped past them…

It was Adam, once again, who brought Shiro back to the present by rising to all fours as the rest of the assembled stood to bow to their king. They exchanged parting pleasantries before shuffling through the door. Shiro was left standing with his King and his puma, both of whom seemed to sense there was something on his mind. 

“We’ll get this all sorted,” Alfor said gently. “I know it weighs on you. Sometimes, unfortunate things simply happen, and you feel responsible.” 

Shiro bowed. “Thank you, Sire. I’ll report to you Kolivan’s answer as soon as I've received it.”

“Please do.” 

He left with Adam on his heels and nudging his hand. “Slow down,” Adam complained, tugging Shiro’s sleeve with his teeth. 

“Why? None of them ever listen. Did you hear that?” He stopped to point a hand accusingly at the meeting room behind them. “A _bear_ attack, they want us to think a bear attack would take down a Shieldmage. Not just any Shieldmage, _Iverson.”_

Adam glanced around before taking a more significant bite of Shiro’s tunic to drag him to the side, standing on his hind legs to reach up and paw open a broom closet tucked into a niche along the hall. Before Shiro could continue his tirade, Adam pushed his head against the backs of Shiro’s knees to urge him none-too-gently into the dark and cramped confines.

As soon as the door closed, his body rippled and grew until he was standing face to face with Shiro in the dim light, his human form blinking slowly to adjust to the lack of night vision. 

“I know, love. You know that I know, and they’re all blind if they believe that story. I suspect there may be some truth to it, as Trevaine is not a very good liar. Still.” Adam drew his knuckles down the sides of Shiro’s face, leaning in to press a kiss to the downturned corner of his lips. “We need more information.”

Shiro let himself melt into Adam. “I know,” he sighed. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one that realises something is going on, or the only one that cares.” He held up his hand. “Don’t say it, I know you care and I know Alfor cares, but Alfor has to stay neutral and nothing will change unless the Elders do something about it.”

“I’m not arguing.” Adam shrugged. “I simply intend to do something about _you_.” To prove his point, he started trailing soft kisses down Shiro’s jaw to his neck. 

“Adam,” Shiro said, breathless and already leaning into it. “What if someone finds us?”

“Then I’ll shift quickly. And you followed me in here because I was chasing a rat or some such ridiculousness. Now hold still.” Adam followed up his command by placing his kisses lower and lower until he met the hemline of Shiro’s tunic. “And try to relax.” 

Adam didn’t make it difficult. 

Shiro couldn’t shake the goofy smile on his face as they left the closet and made their way back to their private tower. It didn’t last long though.

As soon as Shiro opened the door, Keith’s sour mood permeated the whole house. His door was open at least, so he’d probably left to eat or shit, and at this point Shiro didn’t care. He just wanted Keith to buck up and face his duty.

“Let him be.” Adam came up beside Shiro, resting a hand on his shoulder as they both looked at the heavy wooden door that separated them from the sulking dragon. “Give him one more night. Tomorrow, we’ll make him talk. We knew this would probably happen.” 

"It's my fault," Shiro whispered. He turned to pull Adam into his arms. "If I'd been more clear in my teachings, maybe he wouldn't have wished so completely for something I'm not even sure I deserve." Running a thumb over Adam's cheek he closed his eyes. 

“No.” His familiar leaned into the touch. “We taught him what love looks like. He’s a good person with a kind heart. And who knows? You yourself said you’ve been keeping an eye on that Fuentes boy for years. The Old Magic never makes mistakes.” 

"It didn't make a mistake with you." Shiro nibbled at Adam's neck, pulling their bodies flush. "And I've only been keeping an eye on him because I was worried, none of that other stuff influenced me." 

“I know, I recall you mentioning him now and then. I’m just wondering if perhaps our little salamander is, as usual, getting ahead of himself.” He leaned back enough to push Shiro away by the shoulders. “Behave, I have supper to make.” 

"He always does." Shiro leaned in and stole one last kiss before smacking Adam on the ass. "What are we making for dinner?" 

Adam glared. “Which of us is the animal, I often wonder. Keep your hands to yourself, Master Magi, or we won’t be making much of anything.”

“If you’d stop being disgusting,” came the disgruntled call from Keith’s bedroom, “you’d see that I already _made_ dinner.” 

"Well, weren't you the productive little fire breather today! Did you hear that, Adam? Our sweet boy made us dinner after our long day of working as Master and Familiar.”

Adam smiled ruefully. “I _did_ hear that, Master. You know, it is almost as if you can disagree with someone or be frustrated by them and still care for them nonetheless.”

“ _I hope you both choke on the bones and the worms choke on your corpses_ ,” their dragon sweetly replied. 

“Always the charmer. He takes after you, Master.” 

"Are you kidding? He learned that from you." Shiro tapped Adam's nose. "No one can quite give such articulate insults as you." 

“Hmm, perhaps you’re right.” Adam crossed his arms and smirked. “Alright, you stubborn reptile, come out and join us and we promise not to ask you invasive questions for the rest of the night. Don’t we, Master?”

 _One invasive question?_ Shiro mouthed. Adam gave his arm a light smack.

"We promise," Shiro called out behind him, but pouted the whole time. 

Keith came out of his room in a way that could only be described as “slinking.” His hair was tangled and it was obvious he’d been crying. 

Shiro gave Adam a pained look, but Adam shook his head. "So, what did you make for dinner? I hope it's rabbit soup," Shiro said, overly bright. 

Nodding, Keith rubbed at his arm and looked over Shiro’s shoulder to the kitchen. “I caught two while you were out. You’re almost out of...of potatoes.” His face scrunched up. 

Adam had evidently had enough of standing there, and crossed the space between them in three easy strides, pulling Keith into a tight hug and resting a hand between his horns. Buried in Adam’s tunic, Keith’s breath began to hitch.

"Oh, my little salamander." Shiro wrapped both of them in his strong arms, the wooden one not quite bending enough to hold Adam well. Eventually, since Keith seemed to be in no rush to move, they all just sank down to the floor in a heap until Keith’s breathing evened back out. 

“You know,” Adam said softly, running a hand over Keith’s unruly black hair. “Your Master lives here at the Magerium and isn’t likely to go anywhere any time soon. You can come visit whenever you like once you are settled. I can’t imagine he’d forbid it, and you could bring him here as well. I can stay a puma and he need be none the wiser. This isn’t goodbye.” 

Keith’s gold eyes popped up over Adam’s shoulder to blink wetly at Shiro. “I think he hates me.”

"The Fuentes kid, are you sure?" Shiro didn't know much about him. He knew the kid was bullied and people who were bullied sometimes turned around to pick on others they had power over. Shiro's face darkened. "What did he do to you?" 

“Nothing,” Keith said quickly. “Nothing bad. Just...when we started to bond, he said we should ‘get it over with’ and when we connected, I could feel...I don’t know. Denial. Disappointment.” He tensed in Adam’s arms. “I didn’t even get the chance to do anything to make him feel that way.”

"Of course you didn't. I trained you myself, I know for a fact that you were perfect." He kissed the top of Keith's head. 

“I know!” Keith pulled back and scoffed. 

Adam rolled his eyes. “What we’re all going to do is take a deep breath and eat the lovely meal you made for us, Keith. Then we are going to help you pack a few essentials, and you’re going to take a bath. Tomorrow, you’re going back to your Master and you’re going to apologize for leaving - ah, no, don’t talk back, you left first - and give this another try. Shiro and I will be here if you are in danger or truly need us, but I don’t want to see you back here for several weeks at least.”

Keith's and Shiro's faces were mirrors of each other as they stared at Adam. 

“Not a word from either of you.” Adam disentangled himself and stood. “You both need to wash up. I’ll put some bread in the oven. Come along, nothing will get done so long as we sit here warming the rug.” 

Shiro gave Keith one last squeeze before standing. "C'mon, you heard Damdam." He held out his hand to hoist Keith up. 

Keith took it and stood, rubbing his wrist under his nose. “I was just standing here. I’d gotten up to get more tea, and then I felt a tugging - right here, around my stomach. The world sort of shimmered and somehow I just knew I was being summoned. And I was excited. Really excited, but nervous, and I kept trying to look around the room as it blurred because I thought...what if I never come back here? What if it’s the last time I’m in my home? I left a half-finished cup of tea and a crust of bread and my coverlet wasn’t made and you and Adam would have come home to just find me gone…”

Shiro grabbed his hand and squeezed. "You'll always have us, no matter the distance. This will always be home" .”

He’d meant it to be comforting, but the way Keith looked around the room made him feel as if he’d only made things worse. The boy’s eyes were dull, and he was obviously exhausted, but moreover it seemed as if he was simply...resigned. Hopeless, even. It made Shiro ache. 

“Yeah,” Keith said. “Home.” 

He’d never sounded so numb. 

~🍄~

Lance & Keith

Seven days after the dragon had flown off in a rage - quite literally flown off, that is - a strange boy with golden eyes appeared at Lance’s dormitory door, sullen and skulking. 

His eyes were downcast when Lance opened the door. He frowned at the flagstone tiles and gripped his elbow. It was late into the afternoon and Lance had already changed out of his formal robes into a casual tunic.

“Uh? Can I help you?” The boy was…‘handsome’ was not correct. _Beautiful_ , definitely, but why he had any business with Lance, he had no idea.

Maybe this was an errand boy from one of the elders; his clothes were definitely fine enough. His rank was quite high and close to the king. The stiff collar and fine embroidery gave at least that much away. “I think you have the wrong Magi.”

“My sincerest apologies for my outrageous behavior, Master,” Keith said with the droning tonality of a phrase repeated countless times. “I am ready to accept whatever punishment you deem fit.” 

“Keith?” Lance stared at him, mouth agape. 

Keith raised a thick eyebrow. “Yes?” 

Stepping back to get a better look at him, Lance realized he still had horns curling up from his head and red wings poking out from above his shoulders, while a tail swished impatiently behind him.

Keith clearly hadn’t been hiding in the woods sulking. His hair and clothes were tidy and he smelled like firewood. As Lance had expected, he’d likely spent the week in his old room with his old master. Broodmaster. Whatever. 

Keith was looking at him like he was crazy. 

Right, he’d asked for a punishment and was waiting for an answer. The problem was, Keith wasn’t a child. A punishment for an adult seemed like something out of his control. Stepping aside, he held open the door. “Why don’t you come in first.”

“Um.” That seemed to throw Keith off. He looked from Lance to the room and back. “But I disobeyed you. You can’t invite a familiar in Reprisal into your chambers. It would look bad.” 

“Repri-” Lance shook his head. “You’re not in Reprisal. I never ordered you to do anything. You can’t disobey an order that doesn’t exist.”

That also gave Keith pause. He looked around once more before nodding and stepping past Lance into his room. 

Lance closed the door with a click. “You’re not a dragon anymore. I mean, you don’t look like you did.”

“What? Oh. That’s right, I guess you didn’t…” Keith shrugged and held his arms out for inspection. “Human form. I can also project a glamour to hide the leftover dragon features. It gets cramped after a long time but I can take whichever form you prefer.” 

“That’s really convenient.” Lance sighed in relief. “I was kinda glad you weren't sleeping here since I wasn’t sure where I’d put you.” Lance pointed at a bed roll. “In that case, that can be yours. It’s my spare one for travel, so we’ll have to get you your own later.”

Arms at his side, Keith bent at the waist in a stiff, formal bow. “Thank you, Master. I can sleep on the grounds if you would prefer your privacy.” 

“Like outside? It’s spring! The snow’s barely melted. I’m not going to make you sleep _outside_.”

Was this Keith’s way of protesting or had Shiro taught Keith to never make a nuisance of himself to the point of detriment? Keith kept acting like he was cruel and wanted perfect submission when all he really wanted was someone to carry the bottles upstairs so he didn’t have to anymore.

He wasn’t to get much of an answer. Keith’s response was a bland, “Thank you, Master.” 

Great. Lance had the rest of his life to look forward to cold conversations and curt platitudes. Shiro could rot in All Hells for cursing Lance with this dull existence. 

Still. There seemed to be a fiery personality under all that training, which Lance had glimpsed before Keith had ran. And anyway, at least Keith would look better than a toad at the ball. _Oh, right, the ball._

He did his best to smile at Keith. “I am glad you came back before the ball, though. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do if you didn’t show up.”

Keith’s head snapped up, yellow eyes flashing - literally. “I would never l-!” He bit off his own sentence once he realized he was both back-talking and didn’t really have a leg to stand on anyway, given that he had been the one to disappear. 

“Apologies once more, Master.” Keith’s voice changed, all cool neutrality. “I’ve brought my things for the ceremony. Would you care to inspect them and make sure they will suffice?”

Lance hesitated. If Keith's formal attire was made for Shiro then there wasn't much time to fix it. “Let me see them.” _Please_ don't be marked as property of the King’s Mage, Lance pleaded to the stars. He’d never live it down.

Inclining his head in another bow, Keith went back to the hallway to fetch a wooden crate, which he hefted in and opened for Lance’s perusal. Inside, there was a pair of black velvet tights to complement a silver shirt and black doublet with silver stitching - the colors which indicated that Keith was a High Magic creature. The cords that would attach to his belt were white and blue: the colors of potion makers. Lance sighed as worry left his shoulders.

“I went to retrieve those from livery yesterday,” Keith explained. “I hope I got the right ones?”

“Perfect. You did a great job.” The clothes were obviously too fine for anyone of Lance’s rank, but at least the cords were correct. 

The last thing Keith held up was a polished box of dark cherry wood. It was hard to miss the way he held it - reverently, if wistful and a little sad - before he opened it. On a bed of black velvet lay his ceremonial silver collar, inlaid with cut onyx and rubies, as well as the silver chain that would connect to Lance’s outfit wherever he saw fit. 

Lance winced at the sight of it. It was such a blatant display of dominance. Maybe it didn’t bother others with their cats and owls, but Keith was a _dragon_. “Um, I think it’s best if you only wear the collar until the actual ceremony. You can leave the chain off ‘til then.”

Keith shrugged. “Whenever you like. I don’t know that I’m actually supposed to wear either of them before the ball.” His brow pinched as he thought. “I was so busy designing the collar I didn’t pay attention to the specifics.” 

_Praise the stars._ There were holes in his training, even if they were miniscule. "Not at all until the ball and they're really only for presenting our gift to the king. So until then, you can keep them safe, tucked away in your doublet." 

It seemed to take effort for Keith to close the box and tuck the collar away, his eyes still looking at it as he said, “As you wish, Master.” 

With the collar out of sight, Lance could pretend that they were on equal footing. "I still need to finish our gift to the king. Why don't you make yourself comfortable? Put your things anywhere you like. The bottom drawer of the dresser is empty; you can use that. I'll be back before nightfall." 

Keith looked up with an expression that was borderline pouting. “Can’t I come with you? And help?” 

"I'm at the final stages so there isn't much for you to do, but if you'd like to observe, you can come along." Normally Lance would welcome the company and revel in the help. The problem was that he was stressed out and running on almost no sleep because of this potion. He'd rather get it over and done with as fast as possible. "You sure you don't want to unpack and settle in?" 

“Oh.” Keith must have clued in on his reluctance because he hesitated. Glancing around the cramped room, he shifted from one foot to the other as he seemed to coach himself through an internal debate of some sort. Finally, he huffed a little sigh and bowed his head. “I will do whatever you would prefer of course.” 

“Why don’t we start your training after the ball. There’s too much to do and I only have three days left.” Lance pinched the bridge of his nose with both hands and dragged them under his eyes to massage out his dark circles. “I’ll be back. Just…” He was so very underqualified to boss around his familiar. “Stay here.”

Keith sank down to the floor next to his crate and glared at the opposite wall. “Yes, Master,” he said flatly. 

Lance glanced between Keith and the door. “Uh, okay.” He nodded. “Good.” 

With a nod, he squared his shoulders and left. He was a master of a familiar now, he needed to act like one.

It was well past sunset when Lance returned, carefully cradling a bottle within a velvet sack as he opened the door.

His room, while certainly not untidy when he’d left, was clean. Ridiculously, meticulously clean. There was a fire going in the small fireplace and the kettle that hung within it was bubbling away - forgotten, apparently, since Keith was…

Nowhere to be found. 

“Keith?” he whispered. The room was so small that there wasn’t any place to hide. He must’ve left again. Lance sighed and put the precious bottle on the windowsill, wiggling the sack down enough to cushion the base while the glass was exposed. The potion inside needed to collect moonlight every night, but every second it was out of his hands made Lance feel anxious. 

As quietly as he could, he undressed into his smallclothes. He found a neatly folded nightgown and threw it over his head, not even bothering to lace it up. Pulling the kettle out of the fire, he placed the grate over the opening and headed for bed. 

As he was climbing in, a snort and snuffle gave Keith’s position away.

Lance paused, the covers still in his hands and one knee on the mattress. He dropped down and looked under the bed. There, in the very furthest, darkest corner was his dragon, sleeping soundly. 

He huffed a half laugh and crawled into bed. His...very _warm_ bed. That was certainly a perk. And anyway. At least Keith hadn’t run away again. 

~🍄~

11 Years Ago, Late Spring 

"I don't have time for this." Shiro tugged at his new set of robes, trying to straighten them out. "Adam, please, do something about that boy." 

‘That boy,’ who was actually a boy-shaped dragon, was currently sitting on the floor surrounded by several piles of ash that had once been his lesson scrolls. He was stubbornly crossing his arms and glaring at the fireplace, tail flicking in irritation. When he caught Shiro looking, he stuck out his tongue. 

Adam sighed. Both his Master and his young charge had a habit of getting irritable when they were cooped up for days on end. A recent string of rainy, stormy days had meant that young Keith was subjected to extra lessons to keep him quiet and entertained, and when he proved to be neither of those things, he took his bad temper out on Shiro. Shiro’s patience would dwindle, which left Adam trapped between two grumpy tower-mates with very few options left. 

He glanced out of the narrow window. It was still dark and another storm would be rolling through in a candlemark or so, but he could probably take Keith out for a bit. Or moreover, he _must_ take Keith out for a bit, or it was possible the tower would not be standing by nightfall.

“Very well, Master.” Before Keith could protest, Adam bent and scooped him up, balancing the boy on his hip. “You’ll be alright dressing on your own?”

"I'll be fine. I dressed before I summoned you, I swear." The tension in Shiro's shoulders eased and he flashed Adam a thankful smile. "There are more important things to attend to than my dressing." 

Adam looked down at the sullen bundle of wings and horns pouting against his hip. “Indeed. But for the record, I expect hot tea and extra ear-scratching time when you return.” 

"How about I steal some good pheasant for you from the banquet, too?" Shiro kissed him on the cheek and Keith on the head. He was headbutted for his efforts. Holding his mouth, he backed out of the room. "Good luck, you're going to need it." 

The enormous thud that heralded Shiro’s departure made Adam sigh again and look down at Keith. The boy was fidgety, his expression surly. One fang poked out over his frown, and a lock of hair fell forward to obscure one gold eye. Adam had to fight to keep his expression level and not to melt just a little. 

“Alright, young one. Master is gone. I think it’s time you and I got some air. Shall we go outside?”

Keith’s small wings expanded and he looked up hopefully. “Really? Isn’t it wet?”

Speaking without yelling; already they were making progress. “It will rain again shortly, but we can use our time wisely until then. The pond should be especially active with all this rainfall.” As he knew it would, the word “pond” caught Keith’s attention and earned him an eager, if wary, nod. 

“Alright then. Fetch me your Too-Cold Coat, please.”

Keith did as he was told, very obediently running to the mudroom to bring back the young acolyte’s robe Shiro had pilfered for their use. When Keith wore the hood up and Adam took his human form, they looked like any other Master mage and Tower youngling.

It was Keith who had named it, given that they had pressed upon him that the hood must stay up at all times because it was ‘too cold’ to leave it down - not, of course, to hide the nubs of his horns. Adam held the robe up so Keith could slide his arms in before securing the hood over his head and pulling the strings tight at the throat. 

“You’re choking me,” Keith whined. 

“Am I?” Adam replied blandly. “Perhaps then I won’t hear so much complaining. Come along.” 

Keith slid his hand into Adam’s and they wound their way down the steps. 

It was difficult for them both to keep their slow pace across the grounds so as not to draw attention to themselves. There was something about the fresh air and the grass, the hush of wind and the smell of soil that brought out their true nature.

Adam itched to shift into his true form and dig his claws into the dirt as he ran, coiling and stretching muscles that hadn’t seen use in days. Beside him, he knew Keith was battling a similar instinct. It was something primal that Shiro would never understand, and selfishly, it made him feel as if he and Keith shared a secret that gave them a special bond.

It also made him much more patient when it came to Keith’s tendency to squirm after prolonged confinement. Their tower home was very comfortable and warm, but the narrow windows never let enough moonlight through. 

The moment they were beyond the first smattering of trees, right where the ivy began to choke out the light as the Kingswood grew wilder, Adam knelt to untie Keith’s robe. The boy shook his hair free and bounced on his toes as he waited for Adam to bundle their clothing and hide it in the hollow of a tree they’d both marked with their scent.

As soon as Adam smiled at him and nodded, Keith whooped and took off running, flapping his small wings on occasion to rise a few inches off the ground. It would be another few years before they grew strong enough for flight, but that certainly never stopped the boy from trying. 

Adam also shifted, hitting the ground with his front paws and reveling in the return of his heightened senses. His memories before Shiro were vague, but he knew he’d spent most of his life doing exactly this - hunting.

The forest here was not the same as the pine-laced crags where he’d been born, but it was no less invigorating to scent and chase prey through the mossy green as it was in dry underbrush. He easily caught Keith’s scent, burnt leaves and the lingering sweetness of a young cub, and followed his charge in an enthusiastic run. 

They simply ran for at least a half-candlemark, chasing each other and wrestling in the dirt once Keith shifted to his dragon form.

The scrappy little thing managed a few good bites to Adam’s neck and shoulder, and he even let himself be pinned once just to see the fierce look of triumph in those golden eyes. At the first distant rumble of thunder, Adam rolled to his paws and shook himself all over. 

“Time to hunt, Little One,” he said purposefully. “It should be quick work to go fishing, or would you prefer red meat for supper?”

Keith rolled on his back and wriggled in the dirt, using the twigs and stones within to scratch his scales. “Can’t I just catch frogs for a while? I don’t want to fish or wait and wait and wait for a stupid deer.” 

Adam rolled his eyes - a distinct gesture and bad habit he’d picked up from the boy in front of him. “You say that until your belly is rumbling this evening.”

Flipping over, Keith plopped his rear end down and looked up at Adam with wide eyes. “Please, Damdam? Just today?”

 _Ay, cursed stars, he learned that look from Shiro._ Adam finally relented with a sigh. “...Very well. Stay where I can smell you.”

He grumbled when Keith’s snout split with a grin and he got a long lick up the cheek from a reptilian tongue. “Yes, yes. Go on.”

Keith was gone in an instant, a clumsy red blur barreling through the trees. Adam sighed, resigning himself mentally - and not for the first time - that they had to start standing their ground with the boy before he became too spoiled. 

Turning, he made his way into the grassier part of the forest where he usually had the best luck with hunting, hoping at least for a rabbit or two. 

Tomorrow, then. They could start being firm tomorrow. 

It took longer than he might have liked to find any sort of game. Likely, all the animals were hunkered down to avoid the rain, but he managed to eventually weed out a sizable hare.

Rabbit securely in his teeth, Adam shifted as he sniffed the air. Keith was back at the frog pond where he’d left him. Leaping from a tree, Adam made his way back to the rumble of the approaching storm. He found Keith paused, head tilted and listening, a fat toad clutched in a claw.

Adam set the rabbit down so he could speak. “What are you doing?” 

Keith looked up at him and then back at the pond. “That boy is sad,” he said. 

Adam squinted through the brush. While his eyes were better for hunting and night stalking, they weren't great for focusing on middle distance. His ears, though, caught the soft sobs.

Ah, one of the new acolytes.

The child was creating tiny mushrooms in the mud and punching them to make them explode in a watery mess. With each punch, he sobbed a little harder.

He sat his haunches down, deciding that this was one of those moments he should let Keith be himself and see what he would do. 

To his surprise, Keith chose to shift back into his human form.

Apparently having skin went a long way in wrangling frogs, because the creature immediately stilled in Keith’s gentler grip. He shuffled forward a bit on his knees before setting the frog down and poking it to make it hop forward.

Clearly it wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking, however, since Keith began making little flicking motions with his hand that were accompanied by very small sparks of flame at the frog’s behind. That certainly got the creature moving, and it hopped its way over to the crying boy, courtesy of Keith’s pushy fire magic. 

Covered half in mud and dirty fists killing another wet mushroom, the boy stopped to stare down at the frog. “What do you want?” he asked, voice breaking.

The frog croaked and Keith shifted forward, all eyes and ears on what was happening.

“Well you’re the only one that will talk to me.” The child picked the frog up and stared into its warty face. “Will you be my friend?” 

It croaked and hung limply in his hands.

He sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. A slow smile spread across his face, though it was still sad. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you now.” He hugged the frog close and it squirmed.

Keith’s tail and ears perked up. Quickly, his eyes scanned the pond before he pointed at a spot close to the edge. The water there began to steam and another frog was soon hopping its way towards the boy, followed by another. 

The entire pond must’ve emptied and Adam sat forward, ready to save the child from the plague Keith just cast on him. 

Giggles.

Adam stopped. The child was giggling as the toads and frogs and other amphibians crawled out of the pond and jumped on him.

“Stop it, you can’t all come home with me. Greeve would be upset.” He scooped them into his arms and laughed. A particularly fat one jumped onto his head and sat there like a crown, croaking. He looked up at it, his blue eyes going cross eyed as he tried to see the top of his head.

Keith was grinning, his tail wagging in a way it rarely did. It was wonderful to see Keith so pleased, but at the same time, it made Adam indescribably sad.

Without being told, Keith had stayed well hidden, and though he clearly ached to go forward and speak to the boy himself, he was obeying all of the rules Adam and Shiro had placed on him to keep him secret and safe. In all his short life, his two guardians were the only people Keith had ever spoken to. It had to be difficult to see someone closer to his age sitting there and clearly in need of a friend, but to stand back and do nothing. Adam was very proud of him.

Proud, but guilty. 

Above them, thunder cracked, startling the two boys. The storm would split the sky again soon. They needed to get back. 

The frogs froze then jumped all at once, hopping back into the pond - all except one who was sleeping soundly on the child’s lap.

“I guess you’re the only one who wants to be my friend. What’s your name?” He paused as if he were listening to the sleeping frog’s answer.

“Nice to meet you, Toad. I’m Lance.”

With gentle fingers, the boy, Lance, scooped the sleeping frog up and made it a little mushroom bed.

“Let’s go home before you get too wet.”

Beside Adam, Keith scoffed. “They live in a pond, rockhead. How is the rain going to get them too wet?” 

Ah, there was the child Adam knew best. He was beginning to wonder who had been sitting next to him all this time. “We need to go.”

Keith sighed and stood. “I know.” He knew, but he kept glancing back at the pond and the boy. Even after the pond was out of sight, Adam caught Keith looking in its direction once or twice. 

By the time they reached the tree and Adam had Keith bundled up in his Too-Cold Coat once more, gripping his small hand in his now-human one, the rain was beginning to patter down on the leaves. Adam gave the rabbit to Keith to hide under his robe, and they began their walk back to the tower. 

“By the way,” Adam began, looking down at Keith when the boy’s eyes peered up at him from under his damp fringe. “Why did you send all those frogs after that boy?”

Keith shrugged, an awkward movement under his bulky robe. “Whenever I’m sad, I talk to frogs, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Autumn: I can’t believe the amount of love this has gotten already. Thank you so much, and I really hope you enjoy. I think we’ve poured more into this than any of our other works together and I hope the effort transfers over to you guys.
> 
> Sail: Hello political intrigue, welcome to the story  
> Omg, guys, guysssss what is all this love? where did you all come from??? 500+ views in less than 2 days whaaaat :x I can't tell you how amazing this is T_T love you all so much for every view, kudo, and comment! just...Thank you!
> 
> Special thanks to Mintusti for being an awesome beta!
> 
> Think about giving us a fallow [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Autumn: I cannot get over how positive the reaction to this has been. Thank you so, so much. It's really rewarding, and just makes my day. See the end of the chapter for more notes, cuz I don't wanna spoil anything. Also enjoy the amazing art by Alex Che! (link in the end notes)
> 
> chat and chill with us on twitter [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

~🍄~

Spring  
  


Lance woke before the sun to collect the potion and slipped it into its heavy velvet bag. If any sunlight touched it before it was complete, it would be ruined. Keith was still snoring softly under his bed, which explained why he’d stayed so warm all night. Even his mattress was warm from Keith’s heat. Lance put the kettle back on the fire, which had never truly gone out. It was obviously enchanted from the color of the flames; too red and iridescent to be natural. This early in the spring, all the extra heat was quite nice - especially when putting his bare feet on the floor first thing in the morning. He wondered how he would feel about it come summer. 

He dressed quickly as the kettle heated. Normally it took him hours to get started, but there was no time for his routine. This potion was demanding and if he messed up, there would be no time to make another. 

With a full night’s rest under his belt, the idea of Keith helping today seemed less daunting. Of course it would be easier to teach Keith after the ball, but he did have orders piling up ever since he’d started on this blasted gift. Once he’d finished his tea, he pressed his finger to the wall. Hopefully, Keith would wake up before the spell wore off. Tiny mushrooms followed his finger as he traced out his message. Belly full of tea and message written, Lance left without a sound.

It was nearly midmorning when Keith showed up at the apothecary, rubbing sleep from his eyes and with his hair in a tangled nest. 

“Why’d’you work so early?” he grumbled in Lance’s general direction. 

Lance startled, fumbling the jar he was setting back. “Good morning to you, too.” He switched jars and measured out fly’s wings on a scale. “You’re just in time. I got an order for a few itching balms. The stable horses got attacked by mosquitoes last night.”

“Okay…?” Keith blinked at him, uncomprehending. “What can I do to help?” 

“First, tell me what you know about potions making.” Lance poured the measured fly’s wings into the mortar to grind them and snapped the lid closed on the jar.

“Uh.” Keith turned a chair around and straddled it, resting his chin sleepily on the back as he watched Lance. “Someone makes the potions and then people use the potions.”

Lance paused his grinding and turned to face Keith. “Chemical balances, extracting magic, finding ingredients…do you know any of that?”

His familiar made a face, as if he’d licked about a dozen lemons. “No. I mean, besides what can be manipulated with heat and fire. If I wasn’t taught it, it must not have been important enough to be in my skill set.” 

“Really, now?” Lance set down the mortar with a dull thud. “And just what exactly is important enough to be in your skillset.” He crossed his arms and looked down at Keith.

Sitting up a little straighter, Keith looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. “All forms of offensive and some defensive fire manipulation, control of heat and pressure, glamour and basic illusions, scent perception, wilderness survival, melee and magical combat in both forms, fluency in several archaic languages both written and spoken, telepathic rapport with other High Magical creatures - not that I’ve met any - and I’m not completely useless in the kitchen.”

“Bottling?”

Keith stared at him. 

“Sealing wax? Identifying magical properties? Grinding and measuring?” At the blank look, Lance sighed, deflating. “Looks like we’ll have to start from scratch. Though, cooking will be helpful; I sometimes forget to eat.”

Keith continued to stare. In fact, he had yet to blink. 

“Let’s start with the basics. See that broom?” Lance pointed to the corner. “We start the day and finish the day with sweeping. If we’ve been using extremely volatile substances, we sweep.” He pointed at the multiple buckets that lined the far wall. “We empty the trash throughout the day and we don’t mix magical substances in the trash. I’ll also put you in charge of the fireplace until you get the cleaning down. The fireplace should be easy enough for you since it’s in your skillset already.” 

“...You’re asking me to sweep, and you think the _fireplace_ part is the easy one?” Incredulous, Keith rocked forward in his chair. “I’m High Magic, I could make the broom do it _for_ me if I really tried, don’t you want me to...I don’t know, go milk a griffin or harvest the undead or something?”’

Not for the first or last time, Lance pinched the bridge of his nose as he wondered why, out of all the creatures he could've summoned, _why_ he’d gotten High Magic. "If a potion calls for those ingredients, I might, but I'm a lesser potions master. I'm usually tasked with bulk orders of common, boring potions. Which means that _you_ are tasked with common, boring jobs."

Keith seemed to war with that for a moment. He glanced around the apothecary, worrying at his lip, trying to find something to say. Clearly, being familiar to a Potions Master had been as much of a surprise to him and his teacher as it had been for Lance. All the training Keith had done, and suddenly he was back at the beginning - a novice, barely allowed the simplest responsibility. It must have been infuriating. 

Finally, he slumped- just a little, not enough to catch if Lance hadn’t been looking - and glanced up at his Master. “Where do you keep the broom?”

Lance pointed to the corner again. "Be wary what you sweep up and where you throw it away. I've labeled all the trash bins for you. If you don’t know where to throw it; ask." He picked up the mortar and returned to grinding.

Keith crossed the room and picked up the gnarled handle of the old broom, staring at it with the kind of focused determination Lance might give to his potions. Methodically, Keith began to sweep. 

And he kept right on sweeping. Every so often, he would empty the bins the way Lance showed him, and by supper, it had gotten to the point where the floor was so clean that Keith was hovering in Lance’s space just to immediately sweep up the few things that happened to fall. 

"Keith." 

“Master?”

He really needed room to breathe. "You're…” The voice of Greeve yelling at him for every little thing, even if it wasn’t wrong, stopped him in his tracks. “-doing a great job," he finished. Lance stretched and nodded at a stack of bottles by his workbench. "Ready to learn how to bottle?" 

Keith looked at the floor and back up at Lance. “...I suppose there isn’t much sweeping left to do, is there. So. Uh. Yes.” 

"Wonderful. The ointment is spelled and ready to go. Whatever you do, you can't mix magic, so you have to do this by hand." Lance stood on his tiptoes and found the funnel. Grabbing it, he handed it to Keith. "Since it's so thick you'll have to use that. Each bottle gets two hundred grams." 

“...Right.” Keith looked at the funnel. “Two hundred grams.” 

That at least occupied Keith for...about another hour. Then he was back to sweeping. And when that was done, he gave up and just sat at Lance’s feet, digging at a knot in the wood with one claw. 

"Is it everything that you dreamed it would be?" Lance asked, not looking up from his work. 

Of all the reactions Keith could have had, he chuckled. “I was told very firmly not to have any expectations. Believe me, I’ve had my whole life to imagine far, far worse things than a lifetime of chores.” 

Lance stopped and looked down at Keith with a frown. "You know I'm never going to hit you or punish you, no matter how badly you mess up. I promise." 

Keith returned the look with a thin smile. “I was _also_ told that I must do everything in my power not to mess up. It indicates a lack of focus on my part.” 

"The good news is that with me, you won't have many chances to fail." Lance sighed and slid down to sit next to Keith. "I swear I'm not mean. Boring, but not mean." 

“I still will do everything in my power to ensure that you are pleased with my efforts and service.” Keith’s practiced expression warmed a bit as he admitted, “but I believe you.”

Lance sighed and gave Keith's knee a curt pat. "Good. Ready to cork the bottles?" He nodded at the stack of ointments. 

“Can’t wait.” 

Keith was not ready to cork the bottles. In fact, it took him nearly twenty minutes to finish the first one. The material was too soft and strange for his scales to really grip, and holding the cork with his claws just ripped it to pieces. By the third, he was seething.

"I think that's enough practice for now." Lance took the box of corks from him before he shredded any more. "I'll finish this up. We have an order for vigor. You can prep the ingredients while I work on this." 

Keith bit back a retort as the box left his hands. “I don’t know what that is…”

“Go to the bench and I’ll tell you what to do.”

He went to the bench. And was in no way sulking about it as he did. 

“You’ll need the spring water in the pitcher on the floor. Pour the cauldron halfway full.” Lance set about capping and sealing the bottles with practiced precision. 

That was easy enough. Keith obeyed, being careful not to spill as he did. “Okay.” 

“Next you’ll need to crush up the spider’s legs. They’re in the jar to the right, above the spider’s silk.”

Keith stopped. 

“...The what?”

"The spider's legs. They add a helping hand," Lance sing-songed, "to make any task go as planned." 

Tail twitching, Keith reached a hand out for the jar. Pulled it back. Reached forward. Hesitated. “You know what,” he squeaked, “May I be excused? For a moment?” 

“Of course. The privy is down the tower and on the right.” Lance moved onto the next box of bottles.

Keith was gone for an unusually long time. When he slunk back into the room, he had to flap his wings and jump a few times before grabbing the jar. With his eyes slammed shut, he flipped the lid off and dumped it into the mortar.

After a quick, perfunctory pounding, he tipped it into the cauldron. 

“Keith?” Lance turned from his bottles and quirked an eyebrow. “How many grams did you just spill in there?”

“Enough,” his familiar countered defensively. 

Lance gave him a side eye before turning back to his task. “It’s okay; you’re learning. Your first potion won’t be perfect. Next, you powder the holly and bind it with the web. Holly is on your left under the bench and web is under the legs.”

If Lance heard the small gagging sound Keith made, he gave no indication of it. 

Keith was quiet as he worked, up until he had to reach in and pull out a handful of spider's web. He mewled in disgust before he could stop himself, and that time, Lance definitely heard it. 

“Did the web bite you?” Lance stood, chuckling to himself. He dusted off nothing from his butt; the floor was more spotless than he’d ever seen it before. When he turned, Keith looked green and Lance pulled up to his side, putting a hand on Keith’s back. “Are you sick?”

“ _Whatno_ ,” Keith protested, attempting to drop the web, but when it clung to his scales, he started shaking his hand in growing panic. “It won’t come off _why won’t it come off_?!” 

“Because it’s webbing.” Lance picked up the tongs hanging on the wall. “Why did you grab it with your fingers?” He expertly pulled it from Keith’s wiggling hand and dropped it into the holly. A closer look at Keith’s face - more specifically, the way his eyes kept sliding to the spider’s bits before quickly looking away - explained his behavior. “Wait. Don’t tell me a _dragon_ can’t handle some bugs?”

“I can handle it!” Yellow eyes narrowed and glared at him, smoke rising from Keith’s nose in a single angry puff. “It just...I didn’t expect it to be so clingy. That’s all.” 

“Mm-hm.” It was time to call Keith’s bluff. “Hand me the spider’s legs.”

With a suspicious glance, Keith did as he was told, pointedly not looking at the jar once he’d identified it. 

“A definite case of the heebie-jeebies. Looks bad too. I’m not sure it’s curable.” Lance shook his head, clicking his tongue. 

“Oh, give it over.” Keith rolled his eyes and held out his hand. “Just let me finish the damn thing and be done with it. I’m not a child.”

Snickering, Lance handed back the jar. He cast a spell over the cauldron before turning away. “I think it’ll be more fun to see what you make than to have me make it. All you have to do is add the hollyweb and boil it. Good luck.”

“ _Good luck_ ,” Keith mimicked snottily under his breath. He continued grumbling as he finished winding spider’s web around the holly and chucked it unceremoniously into the cauldron. 

Lance sat so he could watch Keith work, barely paying attention to his bottling. Keith brought the cauldron up to a boil. Lance’s knowing smile widened as the potion grew hotter and the legs started to crawl by themselves out of the pot and over the rim. A few wormed their way up Keith’s hand, then more, until hundreds of spider’s legs were crawling over Keith.

Lance had never heard a dragon scream. Neither had the Magerium, the Royal City, or most of the Kingdom of Belwald, but as disembodied spider legs began colonizing Keith, that definitely changed. 

“ _Get them off!”_ He shrieked, shaking his hands and dancing backwards. “ _GETTHEMOFFGETTHEMOFFMASTERMAKETHEMSTOP!!”_

“Too many legs. They’ll stop when the right number is in. This is why you have to pay attention to what you’re doing and put the right measurements in.” Lance strolled over and picked out a packet of fly's wings. Taking a pinch of them, he sprinkled a circle around the cauldron. The legs halted before resuming a slow crawl towards the wings and away from Keith. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait for them to leave.”

The betrayal and fury in Keith’s eyes as he whirled on Lance was immeasurable. “Why didn’t you tell me they could _walk_?! You did this, didn’t you?!”

“ _You_ did this. If you’d listened to me and were patient, you wouldn’t have millions of legs on you right now. Potions are fickle and the ingredients have a magic all their own. Respect their magic and they’ll respect you.”

“It’s not THAT, I…” Keith hesitated and looked over to the writhing pile of segmented legs. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I...Fine! _Yes,_ I’m a big scary dragon and I don’t like spiders! Okay?! They have too many legs and they scuttle and some of them _jump,_ dammit, are you happy now?!” 

Lance couldn’t help it; he ruffled Keith’s hair, sending legs flying. “We all have things we don’t like, even dragons I suppose.” Grabbing a brush, he helped the legs crawl to the wings faster. “You did good for your first one. When I did it, I cracked the cauldron in half, don’t ask, you don’t want to know. There.” The last leg jumped from Keith’s finger to feast on fly wings.

Keith let out a long, relieved breath, shivering a little in revulsion. “I realize that my error and rashness deserves punishment, Master...but could you wait a few minutes so I can concentrate on keeping down lunch?” 

“Punishment?” Lance’s head whipped up, brow furrowed. “I’m not going to punish you.” Shaking his head, he returned to the now unmoving pile of bug parts and began sorting them.

“What?” Keith blurted in complete confusion. “But I...disobeyed orders? Acted impulsively and compromised your work? Wasted ingredients?” He paused. “Acted like a hatchling?” 

“You’re a _novice_ ,” Lance laughed, sweeping the legs back into their jar. “And it wasn’t half bad. The potion is still usable, you’re in one piece with exactly the correct amount of limbs, and I got to hear a dragon scream. I think we can call it a success all around.”

Apparently, he had shocked Keith into absolute inaction. He stood there watching Lance, blinking, mute, for at least another two minutes. 

In that time, Lance cleaned up the fly wings and started the potion cooling in a bubble of water. Clapping his hands to dust them off, he turned to Keith who was still staring. “Want to try bottling again?”

“Uh,” Keith said, intelligently. “I. Uh. Break the corks. But I can get the junk in the bottles okay.” 

“Seems like a good place to start. You’ll probably be pretty good at sealing the wax too.” Lance elbowed him with a smile. “While we bottle, I can tell you all my disasters from when I was a novice.”

That earned him the barest hint of a smile. “I lit Shiro’s smallclothes on fire when I was young. Several times.”

Lance snorted. “Shiro the King’s Mage, running around with holes in his smallclothes. Priceless.” 

“There was nothing left to put holes in.” The smile twitched and widened as Keith went about gathering up empty bottles, carrying them over to the station where Lance’s strange siphon contraption held court over the various beakers and jars. 

“Don’t tell me he went completely without!” Lance couldn’t hold back the grin. Having this kind of insider information on the King’s Mage really turned him from an all-powerful hero into a normal person. It was nice.

“Yeah. I couldn’t control my fire until I was...four, maybe five years old? But this one winter, I was so determined to start the fire going, and Shiro never let me near it, so of course I just climbed right over the grate…”   
  


~🍄~

Twenty years ago: The Burning Wastes

Shiro sat under the only tree for miles, a spindly thing with a toothpick shadow. The ground shimmered with heat and all around him, puddles of dream-water tempted him out into the death trap that was the Burning Wastes. Three days in, and he was beginning to wonder if the minerals he’d been sent to collect were truly so valuable to the kingdom that it warranted this level of suffering. 

Smacking his lips, Shiro held out his hand to Adam. “I can’t go much further. How much longer to the site?” 

Adam lifted his head weakly from his paws and gave Shiro’s hand a small lick, tacky with saliva thickened by dehydration. “A mile more, perhaps.” 

"That was very kind of you, but I was asking for water." Shiro leaned heavily against the dying tree, half-singed from the landscape. "This is the fault of my hubris, why did you let me do this?" 

“ _I_ did nothing. _You_ agreed. And what’s more, you’re the only choice. Unless you’ve met any other light mages this century.” Adam used his nose to nudge the water flask over to Shiro, too weak to do much more. His sides were heaving and his tongue lolled out as he panted to cool himself down. “But if this turns into a useless errand and we both die in this cursed place, I will be very sure to haunt you for eternity.” 

“At least I won’t be alone.” Shiro took a conservative swig from the flask. “We should’ve brought a water mage at the very least. There’s gotta be at least one strong enough to come here without dying. Right?” He blinked the sweat out of his eyes.

Adam didn’t answer. He’d already laid back down and was crawling pitifully forward towards one of the puddles, licking his lips. 

“Stop. That’s dangerous. Dream-water isn’t going to quench your thirst.”

“...I can’t,” Adam began, before thinking better of what he’d been about to say. Instead, he struggled to push himself up. “We should keep moving.” 

Shiro let his head fall against the tree. “You’re right.” He didn’t want to move, though. They were so far and their water was getting low. “Drink first and then we’ll leave.” He held out the flask.

Adam’s amber eyes looked at it for a lingering moment, then back to Shiro, before turning to the horizon instead. “I will in a little while. I am alright. On your feet, Master.”

"I wish I was a portal mages so I could just transport us there," Shiro grumbled as he stood. 

“No such thing.” 

Adam was such a spoilsport sometimes.

The sun blasted down on the top of Shiro’s head and burned his skin. The entire waste was speckled with red blemishes and veins that pockmarked the ground. Fire blazed low in the crevices and spat sparks into the dry air as it flowed through. At one point, he’d been able to see the mountains that marked home, but now it was dust, sand, and fire as far as he could see. 

It was made worse, he thought, by the fact that the sand was _black_. It caught and trapped the heat from both the sun and the underground fires, making the air ripple with haze. It beat through his boots and made the rivulets of lava stand out like webs of blood against the soot. The only thing keeping him alive - the both of them alive - was his shield that deflected the sun, but it did nothing to keep them cool. 

They marched forward for another candlemark, steps growing progressively more sluggish as they did. He was about to demand that Adam pause and drink some of the water they still had when his puma’s head lifted. 

Following Adam’s gaze, Shiro spied a particularly large pool of dream-water, it’s surface glimmering with the promise of being fresh and sweet. He knew the dream-water would likely be the biggest danger they’d face in the Burning Wastes, but he’d severely underestimated just how powerful the promise of a cool drink of water would be after a day marching across the cursed black sands. 

The warning was already on his lips when Adam took off for the puddle at a sprint, kicking up sand as he did. The warning shifted mid-word, “It’s just drea- Stop!” But Adam was out of his shield and sprinting faster than Shiro could ever hope to run.

At the edge of the pool, Adam pulled up short. He did not start lapping at the water, to Shiro’s relief, but rather leaned so close his chin was almost grazing the surface. When Shiro had almost caught up, Adam looked over his shoulder at his master. “I think there’s something down there. This pool looked different so I thought perhaps it was true water, but...see for yourself.” 

Shiro peered into the pool of shimmering blue that would definitely burn him if he touched it. Inside was...an egg? It looked like an egg, at least, but unlike any species he knew. Though it was at least two feet below the surface, it seemed to be about the length of his forearm and about half as wide. It was a dark shale gray, with overlapping concentric scales that were iridescent when they caught the light. 

He licked his lips. “Do you think it’s edible?”

Adam squinted at him, blinking the glare from the water out of his eyes. “It’s an egg, so I imagine so, in theory. However, it’s also sitting in a large puddle of scalding hot liquid, and moreover, is covered in scales. How desperate are you for something to eat other than hardtack?” 

“Pretty fucking desperate. And it’s already hard boiled.” Shiro rolled up his sleeves and wiggled his fingers over the surface of steam. “Light magic is so useless,” he bemoaned. “Think you can loan me some mana?”

“Isn’t that precisely what I’m for?” 

Shiro stopped and turned his head to pout at Adam. “Of course not. You’re much more than that.” He kissed Adam’s fuzzy head, earning him a growl and a swat. 

“There will be time for your pretty words later, when we are not actively roasting alive. Get on with it.” 

Adam’s pool of mana was enormous. Every time Shiro dipped into it, he remembered how lucky he’d been to get such a powerful familiar. His own magic was rare, but a puma’s natural magic was unfathomable. It rushed into his soul, warm and intimate. Nothing like the heat of the outside, it was the warmth of a cozy house on a lazy afternoon, soft and sweet.

Coating his arms in a light screen, he took a deep breath and plunged them in. It hurt. If he could have gotten away with using only his wooden replacement perhaps it would have been fine, but there was no way to go unharmed without being a fire or water mage. At least it wasn’t boiling the skin off the arm he had left. Cringing, he grasped the egg and pulled. It was _heavy_ , like pulling a boulder from a mire. “Help,” he grunted.

Adam first started tugging at Shiro’s tunic with his teeth, but when that proved ineffective, he shifted into his human form so that he could lock his arms around Shiro’s waist. Together, they heaved backwards until, with a wet sucking sound, the egg came free and they fell back into a heap. 

“Off,” Adam gasped, smacking at Shiro’s shoulder. “You’re all muscle and I can’t breathe.” 

“It’s not me, it’s this egg.” Shiro rolled off and dropped the egg as fast as possible. His arm was red and a few welts puffed up from overheating. The wooden one was giving off steam. “Fuck, that hurt. This egg better taste delicious.”

Adam frowned, considering the egg. Free from the water, the black ochre of its surface was even more brilliant. The scales glittered wherever they caught the sun. “Wait.” Crouching beside it, Adam placed a hand on the thick shell and stilled. In another few moments, he opened his eyes and looked up at Shiro. “There’s a life inside. I can feel it.” 

“In that thing? It was submerged in boiling water for who knows how long. It’s probably rotten at worst and a very hearty meal at best.”

Glaring, Adam caught Shiro’s wrist and forced his good hand against the shell. “When am I ever wrong about such things? Stay still, and even you should be able to feel it pulse.” 

It was still uncomfortably hot, but Shiro pressed against it and waited. A small _thump thump_ vibrated against his hand. Not able to stand the heat any longer, he tore his hand away, shaking it against the hot air. “It’s alive.”

“Much like I said it was, yes.” 

Shiro ignored his snark. “Should we put it back?”

Adam considered it. He was quiet as he thought, watching the steam rising from the scaled surface of the thing as it cooled - or, at least, simmered down to a less dangerous temperature. “I am...not sure. It feels as if whatever is inside is…'waking up’, in a sense. As if it has been dormant down there. I’m not sure that can be undone. It’s possible that putting it back so soon might kill it.” 

The sun was frying his head the way he’d wanted to fry an egg. Shiro sighed. At this point, all he wanted to do was get out of the heat and out of the Wastes. “Help me put it in my sack. We’ll take it with us and see if the Elders know what to do with it.”

Adam did as he was told, hefting the egg into Shiro’s rucksack and padding it with the few extra articles of clothing he’d brought. Already it felt a little lighter, as if being in the air had evaporated some of the water from its shell, strange as that seemed. He closed the flap and buckled it securely. 

“Let’s hurry,” Adam urged, folding back down to his natural form. “Who knows what this creature is, and the last thing we need now is another mouth to feed in this forsaken place.” 

“You’re always the wise one of the group.” Shiro jumped to heft the bag in place and leaned forward as he pushed through the heat. Just a little more and they could be rid of this place.

Adam kept pace with Shiro as they resumed their trek. “One of us must be,” he grumbled, but Shiro didn’t miss his secret smile.   
  


~🍄~

The egg sat on his desk as Shiro poured over the piles of scrolls and ancient texts. The script blurred as he rubbed his forehead. None of these were any help. Not a single one described anything close to the egg before him. The closest he’d found was a griffin egg, but those were both extinct from the war and covered in spines. This thing was rough but he was pretty sure the plates were scales and not spines as described on the parchment. 

He sat back and stared at the egg’s glossy surface with a sigh. “What are you?” The egg did not reply, but it did wobble a little, as it had begun to do lately. 

Adam bumped the door to Shiro’s study open with his hip, dumping an armful of rolled scrolls into a pile on one side of his desk. “I found a few more that might help. Well, more accurately, I grabbed everything in close vicinity to the one or two I thought might be useful and decided to hope for the best. The most I’ve learned is that it is not a siren’s egg, even if those are also black. Though I suppose that was unlikely to begin with, given that we found it in the Wastes.” 

At Adam’s voice, the egg wobbled a little more, rocking back and forth just enough to rotate slightly. Adam raised an eyebrow. “When did that start?” 

“That?” Shiro nodded at the egg and it nodded back. “I dunno, whenever I talked to it, now and then. Didn’t it always do that?”

“No, it most certainly did not.” Adam put his hands on his hips. “And you just let it sit there without building any sort of barrier? What if it were to rock itself off the desk?” 

“I uh, didn’t think about that.” Shiro stood and picked up the warm egg. “Should we make it a nest? I’m really not even sure how it’s still alive, it’s not like you sit on it at night. If it was a bird it would’ve died. What doesn’t sit on eggs? Snakes? Turtles perhaps,” Shiro was rambling, but he felt so stupid for letting it teeter there at the edge of his desk ready to fall that he wanted to distract from his stupidity.

“Was that a royal ‘you’ or do you genuinely intend for _me_ to sit on the egg because I’m the animal here?” Adam shook his head.

Abandoning Shiro to egg duty, Adam checked their privy to find a few spare rags, decided the egg needed something sturdier, and fetched the quilt from their sitting room instead. When he returned, Shiro was still frowning at the egg in his hands. Huffing affectionately, Adam kissed Shiro’s cheek and held out the quilt. 

“Not to worry, love. This is new territory for us both. We’ll figure things out as we go. We always do.” 

Placing the egg carefully in Adam’s care, Shiro worried his lip. “Was it foolish of us not to consult the Elders after all? Jori is an expert in animals of all kinds, I’m sure-”

A finger to his lips stopped his rambling. Adam’s eyes softened as he looked down at the enormous egg now swaddled in his arms. “You and I both felt that it would be better to keep this to ourselves, and no puma lives past cubhood without learning to trust their instincts. Something just tells me this is not a matter for the Elders.” 

“But what if we fail?”

Adam wrapped the quilt around the egg and hefted it more securely in his arms. “You have my help and together we’ve never failed. Ah-ah, no arguing, tell me I’m right.”

“I’d never dream of it.” Shiro kissed his cheek and spoke his words against it, “You’re right as always.” Pulling back, he stared forlornly at the new pile of scrolls. “That means it’s up to us. We’ll figure this out.”

Turning his face, Adam caught Shiro’s lips in a kiss that became much longer than he’d intended, but it left them both smiling. “We always do.” 

_Figuring it out_ was a lot harder than pouring over a few scrolls. Shiro swore up and down he’d read the whole library before he found the book _Decrees of the High Council of King Mandor_ which he’d ignored for obvious reasons. Adam had brought it by mistake and it’d sat on Shiro’s desk since day one. In the end, he was desperate enough to read it simply because it was there and he was out of options. That was, until he happened upon a passage toward the middle. 

_And thus it became necessary for I, Councilman Leander, to establish a standard of care for all intending to hatch these remarkable creatures in close proximity to the village. During the common breeding seasons, the children tend to bring unhatched eggs to the fields, seeking to rear them into pets, but their lack of care and knowledge results in many of the eggs perishing and going fetid. Their putrification sullies the soil and thus also the drinking water. In addition, all dragon species, no matter how theoretically tamed, are known to eat livestock and are notoriously destructive of property. Unless bound to one by the Goddesses upon a proper Summoning, no human should seek to raise or keep dragons. To do so is to invite misfortune. Therefore, King Mandor has tasked me with the creation and circulation of a guide to help identify the eggs of these magnificent creatures in an effort to deter them from being taken from their nests._

Shiro skimmed a bit before his eyebrows shot up. 

_The Common Greenlands dragon, as its name implies, is the easiest to locate but is also equally easy to overlook. When the egg is approximately eight days old, it begins to exhibit a mossy growth that often leads to it being mistaken for a common rock. In contrast, the Merren’s Field dragon has such a distinct shell that it could hardly be taken for anything other than what it is. This is due to the strange, wriggling, hairlike follicles lining the outside of its shell which allows the egg to move about, reportedly traveling leagues overnight in search of a nesting place._

_The rarest and most beautiful egg, most agree, belongs to the Northern Red dragon. The shell is covered in overlapping scales that exhibit the reflective and iridescent qualities of an oyster shell, though the scales themselves range from dark gray to complete black. Fittingly, it is the most difficult of all to hatch, requiring both extreme heat and an unusual amount of -_

And there the scroll ended. Quite literally, the bottom of the page was dark, uneven, and frayed in a manner that suggested it had either been torn a very long time ago, or perhaps even singed. 

Shiro flipped the page back and forth as if that would make the hidden words appear. Heat and _what_ ? The paper didn’t answer. Well heat he could do but…a _dragon._ “A dragon!” He shot out of his desk and fumbled his way into the living room where Adam sat playing cards. “A dragon, Adam, we have a baby dragon!”

His familiar glanced down at the egg in his lap and frowned. “That seems a bit rude, don’t you think? It’s not as if it’s disturbed you all _that_ much.”

“No, no, no. It’s a _dragon_ , don’t you see? Like, a real live honest to Hoile dragon.” He pointed at Adam’s lap. “I thought they were extinct, but there it is. You’re holding it.”

Adam looked down at the egg once more, now distinctly nervous. “...No.”

“It has to be. Impossible, but it makes sense if you really look at it.”

“...We can’t hatch a _dragon,_ Shiro! Where will we put it? What do they eat? How do we even know it won’t eat _us_?”

“We don’t have to take care of it. We hatch it and put it back where it belongs, in the wild of the Wastes. We shouldn’t own something that’s extinct anyway, I’m pretty sure the Goddesses wouldn’t like that.”

For a moment Adam sat, quiet and thoughtful. Then, “...But if they’re extinct, who would this little one have? Would it even survive out there?” 

Shiro paused at the soft crease in Adam’s face. Sitting next to him, he wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “It’s like you said, this is a dragon, not a house cat. We have no place to keep a dragon and if the Elders found out, _Goddesses_ , if the _King_ found out. It’d be our heads. This is forbidden High Magic.”

Adam gave a soft snort. “We’ve already committed multiple sins in the eyes of the Elders, the King, and the Goddesses.” 

“Think about what you’re saying. This is a wild creature. What right, above nature, do we have to raise it? We should put it back where it lives. The instructions said it needed lots of heat; the cold of Belwald might kill it, it _belongs_ there. The Wastes are its home.”

Sighing, Adam relaxed his legs and the egg shifted in its quilt-nest. “You are right. Forgive me.” He stroked a hand along its dark shell before peering up at Shiro skeptically. “Where did you learn this in the first place? Are you certain? What else did it say?” 

“Oh, _oh,_ right. Hold on.” Shiro ran back to get the parchment and grabbed a few spare sheets and quills on his way. Adam was right where he’d left him, but the way that he looked at the egg made Shiro rethink how he was going to approach this. “Here. There isn’t much and it’s incomplete, but it helps.” He sat down and dipped his quill, scratching _How to Hatch a Dragon’s Egg_ at the top.

Adam read the words and raised an eyebrow at him. “Will you be turning this in to the Elders for credit?” 

Shiro elbowed him with a small smile. “Ass. I think we should log this for posterity. We are, after all, hatching an extinct species.” Just as a joke he added, _A report by Takashi and Adam Shirogane, King's Mage and His Loyal Familiar Midmagic Puma_ in his fanciest curling script. 

The words had the intended effect of making Adam melt against Shiro’s side, even as he still cradled the egg with one arm and picked up the scroll to read with the other. “My Master the jester.”

"Soon to turn alchemist. Or farmhand, depending on how you look at it." Chewing on the quill feather, he waited for Adam to finish reading. Once he placed the scroll down, Shiro pulled the quill from his mouth. "I think we should try boiling it."

“Boiling is how you _cook_ eggs, not hatch them!” 

"It was in boiling water when we found it!" 

“No,” Adam shot back. “It was in a magical liquid substance that very much resembles water and maintains a high heat. And what makes you think boiling water would work now if it was in that puddle for who knows how long?” 

“How else do you suggest we heat up the egg? I’m not going to just throw it into the fire unprotected. We should at least put it in a pan.”

“You can’t _fry_ it either! Why can’t we just...bundle it up near the fireplace?” 

“That’s a fire hazard. Why not a pot, then?”

Adam opened his mouth, then closed it. “Hmm.” 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Shiro wrote, _With full consensus by all, it was decided to put the egg in a pot by the fire for incubation._

“This is ludicrous.” 

Shiro underlined _full consensus._ “I’ll get the pot, you get the fire,” he said with too much glee.

Heaving a sigh, Adam stood to set about the task of building a very large fire, against his better judgment, in the middle of the day. 

A candlemark into their endeavor, not much at all had changed, besides both master and familiar being unseasonably warm. The egg wobbled in its pot now and then but otherwise seemed just as content as ever to keep itself whole and snug. 

“This isn’t working.” Shiro fanned himself with the parchment, the ink smudging with his sweat. “Though I am having flashbacks to the Burning Wastes.”

Adam seemed inclined to agree, if his sweaty brow and pinched expression were anything to go by. “You ought to go bathe, Master. You’ve the banquet to attend with the cultural envoy from Olkarion.”

Shiro sighed. “You’re right,” he said, standing up but staring at the egg. “Are you sure you’ll be alright by yourself?”

“I rather think I will, despite how riveting these last few candlemarks have been,” came the dry reply. Then, “We’ll both be fine, love.” 

It was strange the way he cared about the egg’s well being, but there was no one else he’d rather leave its care to. And he knew Adam could hold his own against a baby dragon. “I’ll be back as soon as the banquet is over.”

Adam waved him off. “Bath first. I pressed your robes earlier; they’re on the bed.”

“You’re too good for me.”

One of the many blessings of having their own private chambers and being so close to the King was the inclusion of hot water at their disposal. It made filling the wooden bathtub much simpler than the days when he’d needed to haul buckets from a well to the fire to the tub and back again. Shiro was all settled in, taking a moment to enjoy the hot water soaking into his muscles, when he heard the quiet sound of Adam singing from the sitting room. It wasn’t unfamiliar - Adam tended to hum or sing fairly often - but it never failed to make him smile. Especially this particular song. 

“ _Black is the color of my true love’s hair_

_His face is like some wondrous fare_

_With the prettiest face and the sweetest hands_

_I love the ground whereon he stands…”_

Shiro hummed along, changing the colors for Adam as he sang to himself. Honestly, living there just the two of them was a dream come true. He’d never thought he’d be so happy, even if it all had to stay secret.

He slid down into the water and closed his eyes, relaxing to the voice of his love.

Adam was well into the third verse when his song cut off with a sudden and uncharacteristic screech.

“Master! _Master! SHIRO!_ ”

Every nerve went off as he stood. Not caring that he was buck naked and tracking water, he ran to the living room. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Adam had scrambled away from the fireplace, his eyes wide as he looked up at Shiro in a panic. He pointed to the fireplace. “It cracked. Goddesses, I think it’s _hatching!”_

“Now? But my banquet,” Shiro’s voice trailed off as the egg cracked and shifted. “Holy shit, it’s hatching.”

The webwork of cracks visible against the shell’s surface began to glow a hot, molten red. As the egg wobbled in its pan, a few of the scales began to shed. More and more fell away, clinking as they did, until all that was left was a glowing red globe. Illuminated by the flames, they could make out the form inside as it thrashed and shifted itself. Finally, with a crack and the hiss of releasing steam, a large chunk fell off as the little creature gave a hard kick with its foot.

“Oh,” Adam breathed, awed and terrified. “Oh, Master...look.” As if Shiro wasn’t staring already. 

Another foot kicked out and wriggled, followed by a thick, wagging tail. Two front paws appeared next, and the egg fell forward. With its head and body still trapped, the little hatchling began to headbutt itself against the side of the pot in an effort to break the rest of its shell. 

“Help him,” Adam urged. “He’ll hurt himself.”

“Me?” Shiro coughed. “Yeah, okay. I can do that.” He took a brave step forward, water dripping from his bare skin. The fat tail stole his heart before he could even lay his hands on the shell. Something inside him shifted and he had a feeling that he was about to be doomed. 

Carefully, so very carefully, Shiro dropped his hands into the pot and picked up the squirming baby. The water sizzled and evaporated from his hands, stinging the one made of flesh. “Hot!” He dropped it onto the floor and the shell burst open as the baby dragon rolled out.

It was laying on its back, its chubby little legs up in the air as it looked at them. Its belly was red, and the dark scarlet of it extended all the way to its paws and snout, which darkened into black. Two large gold eyes blinked up at them as the baby gurgled and growled. Adam’s eyes were suspiciously glassy as he gazed at it and then at Shiro. 

When the little dragon saw Shiro, it’s short muzzle opened on what looked an awful lot like a smile. 

Shiro glanced between the tiny _real life actual_ dragon and Adam. He knelt down and held out his hand, close enough that the dragon could smell but not bite. It sniffed him twice and then snorted two tiny clouds of smoke. 

Adam scooted closer, graceful on his hands and knees even as a human. Settling next to Shiro, he smiled down at the dragon as it began to wriggle and squirm in an effort to turn itself over. Glancing down at the base of its tail, he pursed his lips. “From what little I do know about the physiology of other animals...I think he may be a male.”

“He doesn’t seem to be trying to eat us and he’s smaller than I thought he’d be. I wonder how big Northern Reds get?” Shiro’s grin was painful as he took in the wiggling baby. It was too tempting; he couldn’t help tickling the little paws as they swung in the air.

The dragon made a confused squealing sound, but the upside-down smile was back. He thrashed his tail and kicked his back feet up at Shiro.

“Why don’t you help him up, Love?” Adam coaxed, clearly itching to touch the baby himself. 

Giving the dragon’s belly a final tickle, he scooped him up by the armpits and bonked their heads together. Shiro stared eye to golden eye with the hatchling. “He’s kinda cute.”

Adam leaned against Shiro’s shoulder and reached out to cup the chubby pouch of the dragon’s cheek. “He’s adorable. What would you like to call him?”

Shiro nuzzled his nose to the dragon and then held him out for Adam. “Well, we’re not keeping him, but we can’t call him ‘dragon’ until we drop him off at the Wastes. What about Worm?”

Taking the baby from Shiro with a frown, Adam cradled him close and rubbed the plates of his belly. The dragon squirmed and made a purring sort of sound that vibrated through Adam’s palm. “Absolutely not. He deserves a real name. What else would you have named me, if not ‘Adam?’”

Grabbing the fat tail, Shiro pouted. “But it looks like a little worm.” The scales were smooth and pliable under his hand. He loosened his grip so as not to hurt the baby. “What else would I have named you? Well, Henry, George, Keith, probably something like that. I like strong, simple names.”

Adam hummed thoughtfully as he wiggled a finger for the dragon to grip. He did, his little paws strong and his small claws digging their blunt ends into Adam’s skin. “I thought as much. Shall we name him Keith? That isn’t so bad.” 

“Keith,” Shiro said, wrapping an arm around Adam to tuck him under his chin. “Do you like that name, little salamander?”

The dragonlet hiccuped and then made a sound that could only have been a burp. It was accompanied by a small fireball they both had to lean away from. 

“I think,” Adam chuckled, “that could be a ‘yes.’” 

“Well then, Keith, welcome to the world. I hope you like it here.” He scratched under the scaly jaw.

“We’ll make sure you do,” Adam cooed. 

“Until we take you back to the Wastes,” Shiro added.

“Of course, Master.”

“Adam, look at me.” Neither of them could get caught up in the cuteness of a baby dragon. Eventually he’d grow into a full size dragon and a castle was no place for an illegal, High Magic creature. 

Adam did as he was told, looking up at Shiro with a placid expression. “Yes, Master?”

“We can’t keep a dragon, baby or not. It wouldn’t be fair to him or us. He’s wild. He needs space and his own ki- Well, space, at least. Promise me you won’t get attached.”

“...Yes, Master.” 

It was the first time Adam lied to Shiro, inadvertently or not. In the end, though, it didn’t matter - Shiro had lied to himself, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by Allexche](https://twitter.com/Allexche11)!! What a beautiful picture we are very #blessed 
> 
> Sail: holy shit folks, i'm crying what is this??? i love you all I can't even tell you what this means to me. the comments the kudos the READS??? it took us months to get to 1k before and with this chapter we'll hit that and i'm just. *thank you*
> 
> Autumn: For the record, there is only one version of the song "Black is the Color" that I really love and it's not on iTunes or Spotify or anywhere useful. So here: [Link to YouTube Espers - Black is the Color](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t0JhyvJD0vg) (CW for lotus flower drawing so beware if you have trypophobia)
> 
> I've never wished I could draw more than I did while writing fat baby dragon Keith. I hope the visual translated, because it was cute as shit in my head.
> 
> All the thanks to NASA is a satanic cult for being our amazing beta, good luck in calculus :x
> 
> yo this is a twitter link, click it if you like to click links, follow if you like to follow peeps[Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Autumn is nice, i'm a recluse, come follow us on twitter: [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

~🍄~

Spring

For the fourth time in what felt like as many minutes, Keith growled in frustration as he took a step and his foot sank nearly a foot and a half into the soft earth. With a few grunts and tugs, he pulled it free, but not without sending himself backpedaling onto his rear with a hiss. “This!” he snarled, “is  _ stupid.  _ This is what pages are for! We’ve been here for an  _ hour.  _ What in all NINE hells does ‘specklewart’ even  _ look like _ .” 

Lance let out a long suffering sigh. “It’s a root. You have to look for the flower and if you don’t  _ step lighter  _ you’re going to crush one without even knowing it!”

“Step lighter?! By all means, Master, if you tell the ground to STOP TRYING TO SWALLOW ME!” 

The bush Lance was inspecting snapped between his fingers; he threw the broken twig down. “I’d think a High Magic creature that was as well educated as yourself would be able to find a simple flower without being eaten by the ground,” Lance said, voice strained like a thread about to snap.

“Sorry I missed out on _gardening_.” Keith’s foot sank into another hole before he wrenched it out with a heavy squelch. At that point, the air above him began to waver with the heat coming from his body and his gold eyes were dimly starting to glow. “I was busy training up all of my real skills.” 

_ Real skills.  _ The words cut Lance to the quick, opening up old wounds. He stood and walked off, skillfully sticking to the dry parts of the forest floor. Keith could sink for all he cared. 

_ The gall of that beast.  _ He’d thought they might actually make this work but the more he watched Keith’s impatience grow, the more he realized it was hopeless. That moment with the spiders was a fluke. He’d nap late into the afternoon, wake to sweep, and then sleep in the fire until it was time to sweep again. Lance had thought taking him to learn ingredient hunting might help relieve the boredom, but all it was doing was grating on Lance’s nerves.

The thick squishing sounds continued behind him as Keith caught up, wordlessly trudging along and presumably still fuming. 

The Mogmire was unpleasant - there was no getting around that. The path Lance had learned to follow was a smattering of mossy patches of land at best, and it was true that without being able to identify which grass indicated wetland and which was safe to walk on, it would be very slow going. He’d tried to teach his dragon at the very beginning, but Keith had waved it off impatiently after the first three minutes or so of explanation. A small, smug part of Lance hoped that he was secretly regretting it, and from the way Keith kept grunting behind him, there was a very good chance that was precisely what he was doing. 

Eventually, the squelching stopped, which allowed Lance to actually focus for once. He scanned the ground and spotted one of the tell-tale purple flowers. Carefully tip toeing over to it, he knelt down and dug around the flower. Sure enough, hard specklewart stuck out between the mud. He smiled down at the roots. “Hey little guys, hiding pretty good weren't you?”

He worked in blessed silence for around a quarter-candlemark, digging at the roots with a sizable stick so that he could ease them out of the ground intact. When he’d gathered all but one, Keith’s sullen voice called from behind him, “Master?”

“Hm?” Maybe Keith had learned his lesson and would apologize for ignoring his lessons. The bright white spots of the specklewart were starting to glisten in the air. He needed to get them in jars quickly before their chemistry changed.

“Just, uh. When you’re done. Could you,” he coughed, “ _ please _ ...helpmeoutofthemud.” 

Lance’s hands paused in their task of unearthing. Slowly he turned. At first, he couldn’t locate his dragon, because he’d been expecting Keith to be eye-level as he usually was. Instead, he was nothing but a torso mired in the muck, arms crossed, avoiding eye contact, and pouting  _ furiously.  _

“Keith,” Lance stared open mouthed at the half-sunk dragon. “Why did you let yourself sink so far?”

“I got stuck,” Keith explained curtly. “And you were busy.” 

Lance turned back to his roots. “And I’m still busy.”

“I said please!” Keith whined. 

“You did. And I already explained this to you before we stepped foot in the Mogmire. Why don’t you take this time to think back and see if you can remember your lesson?” Lance went back to his roots. Time was running out and the white of the speckles were starting to yellow. He pulled out his jars and scissors to snip the whole roots off the stems.

Keith went silent again. The only sounds from around them were the buzzing of bogbugs and the occasional wet plop of a frog leaping into a puddle. When the final jar lid latched closed, Lance turned to find Keith up to his chest in muck.

“I knew you weren't listening, but I didn’t realize you weren't listening  _ this badly.” _

“I learn better by performing,” Keith muttered. 

Lance squatted down next to Keith on a safe patch of grass. “At least you had the wits to keep your arms free. You’ll want to wiggle mud under your feet so that you can step on it. It’s going to be a lot of work getting yourself out of there. Next time it might be easier just to listen to the lecture.” He sat down and nodded at Keith. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

Keith’s wings struggled to flap, but the tips of them were covered in mud. “What is the point of that?! I know it was stupid, and I’m sorry! Can you  _ please  _ help?”

Lance tapped him on the nose with a muddy finger. “The only reason you’re sorry is because you’re stuck. You’re not sorry about the things you said or how you treated my work.” A squelch and Keith sunk further. “I’d start wiggling if I were you. The deeper you sink the harder it is to get out.”

That seemed to have sufficiently cowed his familiar. Keith’s eyes dropped to the ground and he frowned at it, but did not protest further. Instead, he began to struggle somewhere below the mud. With an occasional grunt of effort, he slowly began to unearth himself one small inch at a time. By the time he pulled the last foot of his tail free, he was panting in exertion. 

“Here.” Lance held up his flask. “Drink.”

Keith reached up to accept it, but before he could, his arm stiffened into place. Glancing down, he watched with widening eyes as the mud began to bake into hard clay from the heat of his internal magic. “Uhh…” he said nervously, looking up for help.

Lance snorted. “Didn’t think about that one. I’m surprised you didn’t bake yourself into the mire. This place’s magic must be stronger than I thought.” 

“Master!”

“Hold still,” Lance said between giggles. “Don’t move and I’ll clean you off.” He swirled his hand in the air and collected a sphere of water, it grew bigger and bigger until it was almost the size of Keith. As it formed in front of him, Keith’s eyes went wide. 

“You’re a water mage,” Keith murmured, almost to himself. “You’re a  _ water  _ mage!”

Lance held the water still and cocked his head. “Of course I am.”

“I didn’t...I guess I thought…” Keith shook his head and the irritation melted into an amused smile. “No wonder our bond practically repelled.”

Smile fading, Lance sent the bubble over to soak Keith. It slowly steamed but it did its job, the mud falling off in chunks. "You think our bond backfired because I'm a water mage?" 

“Well -  _ pfleh _ \- not because of it. But our magic runs completely opposite of each other. I should have figured it out sooner.” Keith smacked his mouth a few times as a small chunk of mud fell on his tongue. “But the Old Magic never makes mistakes, so. Here we are.”

Lance frowned, cutting the water off. "I see. I guess you're right then, our magic is incompatible.”

“Master.” Keith frowned. “It exploded. We were thrown across the room. There was actual smoke. Did you think it went  _ well _ ?” 

"You're a dragon, of course there was smoke!" Lance made a fist and all the water vanished from Keith's clothes. "You're the one that-" 

Lance didn’t get a chance to finish as a pump woman came to a stop between them. "Oh praise the Nine Goddesses, each and every one of them. A mage, here in the Mogmire." The woman with neatly embroidered flowers on her dress bent over panting. "You must come. Hurry!" 

Keith looked at Lance, eyebrows raised in a question. 

It took a moment for Lance’s brain to reset from arguing with Keith to translating what this woman was saying to him. “I’m sorry, what?”

The woman straightened, brushing sweaty tendrils from her face to look at Lance with pleading eyes. “Please, Master Magi - it’s my husband and my boy. They’re a ways back, both tangled up so tight in Glarionweed it’s begun to frost them solid! Please, good sirs, can you help? I tried all I can think of, and they’ve not got much time!” 

Again, his dragon looked to Lance. Carefully, hesitantly, but with no sense of mockery, Keith said, “...It’s a plant, right? You know this stuff best. Is that something we can help with?” 

Lance gawked between the lady and Keith. “I mean I know Glarionweed, but wouldn’t you like someone else? The Magerium isn’t far you can talk to Plantae Master-”

“ _ Please, _ there’s no time!” 

“Take us to them,” Keith said firmly. The woman half-sobbed with relief.

“Thank you, thank you, it’s this way, just beyond those trees there…” She spoke as she trotted off, her hurried footsteps sending up little splashes of swamp water. 

Keith turned to Lance, forehead creased. “Scold me later, I couldn’t say no. I’m sorry, Master.” Then he, too, was running. 

“I’ve never- Ugh.” Lance grumbled as he stood. Grabbing his bag full of bottled specklewart, he jogged after them. This wasn’t official Magerium business, nor was it sanctioned by any guild. If he messed up, all the blame would fall on him.  _ Stupid hot-headed dragon getting mixed up in other people’s business. _

Given purpose and urgency, Keith was actually rather fleet-footed through the moss and puddles of the Mogmire. He followed the woman with single minded urgency, flapping his wings on occasion to try and close the space between himself and the trees, eventually overtaking her when the clear sound of yelling made her directions unnecessary.

As described, a large, barrel-chested man and a boy not a day older than eight were both tangled inextricably in Glarionweed - a creeping, predatory vine that bound its victims before freezing over. In short order, the prey would turn to ice before being dragged below the ground where the carnivorous roots were buried. As it stood, father and son both had frost on their lashes. 

“M-mama!” the boy cried, barely able to move his blue tinted lips. It brought a fresh round of sobbing from the woman, who reached out but dared not get too close.

“I brought help, look Sam, these nice boys are going to help you.” The boy looked between Lance and Keith as he whimpered. 

Keith surveyed the situation quickly, eyes darting back and forth to try and identify a weakness. When Lance jogged to a stop beside him, he looked to his Master urgently. 

“What should we do? Should I melt it? What do I need to know?” 

Lance didn’t look up. He fumbled with his bag, trying to buckle it around his waist. “...This isn’t sanctioned,” he said quietly. “We shouldn’t and can’t do anything. If one of them dies it’s on our heads.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed. “If one of them dies, it’s on our conscience. What good is magic if not to help people who need it?” 

Finally, despite his trembling hands, the belt clicked closed. “What good is help if it kills someone in the process?” 

“If we  _ don’t  _ help, they  _ will  _ die! That’s a certainty!”

The woman was openly wailing now as her son began to still. “ _ Please,”  _ she sobbed. “ _ Please, please!”  _

Lance bit his lip and drew in a breath, looking between the husband and the boy and the heaving roots as they began to dislodge the soil to drag the bodies under. Nails cut lines in his palm as he tried to calm himself down. 

Keith’s voice, when it came, was cold. “...I am doing this, with or without your help. But without will be considerably more dangerous.” 

Frayed and feeling halfway to panic himself, Lance whirled on his familiar and pushed into his space. His eyes flashed wide and his voice cracked as he hissed, “What would you like me to do, Keith?! Recite a few measurements? Entertain them as they die with interesting facts about the plant that is killing them? There is nothing _I_ can do for them, because I can’t _do_ _anything_!” 

He punctuated his sentence by jabbing a finger into Keith’s chest, but it was soon caught in gentle claws as Keith lowered it back to his side. 

“Yes,” Keith said firmly. “You can. I’m positive you know everything there is to know about every damn plant in this kingdom, so I know you know what that thing is. I’m going to melt it and keep it distracted. You tell me where to aim and what to watch out for. Alright, Master?” 

No, it definitely wasn’t alright. He was a potions master, a  _ lesser _ potions master, and this was way  _ way _ outside his skill set. With a shuddering breath, Lance nodded, tugging his finger free. “Just tell you what I know? Tell you what I know…”

“Yes. That’s all you need to do. I’ll take care of the rest.” 

“I can do that. Probably,” he said to himself as he fumbled for his book of herbs and magical plants. “Okay, um, the- the roots are covered in digestive fluid. Don’t touch them.” 

Keith was sidestepping around the plant, analyzing where he could hit it without hitting either of the humans. His nose wrinkled as he glanced down at the base. “Gross. Tell me more.”

“It- it makes frost with the oil on its leaves. It’s good for creating cooling balms, but if overused can cause frostbite or loss of limbs.” Lance flipped through the book, and flipped through it again. Not in there. It wasn’t there. The boy cried out, the air around him crystallizing. Lance threw the book to the ground and squeezed his eyes shut.  _ Think. _

“How, uh, flammable is the oil?” Experimentally, Keith heated the air around his hands and grabbed one tendril of vine. The plant  _ shrieked  _ and began to thrash. 

“Whoa!” Keith backed off, ducking as one vine unwound itself and whipped over his horns with a crack so hard it left a cloud of frost in the air. “That’s - that was a good thing, right?”

At the cry Lance’s eyes shot open.  _ Shit _ . “No, not good,” he warned as putrid smoke rose into the air. 

Keith leapt in close again, blasting the bundle of vines holding the boy with a rippling heat wave. Immediately, the vines cinching him began to wriggle and loosen. Smoke trickled off the vines wherever they were singed. 

“It’s working!” Keith turned to grin at Lance before another whiplike vine cracked across his face. 

“It’s not working. I mean it  _ is, _ but you’re going to poison them instead of freeze them.” Lance sent a blast of water across the plant, absorbing the poisonous gas. 

“What? Why?” 

Another ball of water absorbed some gas but more was pouring out of the wound. “Look with your eyes!”

“The damn plant snapped me right in one of them!” Keith shot back, but paused in his assault to glance up. The heaving, breathing mass of vines was oozing a visibly noxious gas in a few places where he’d ripped tendrils off. “Oh, shit. What am I supposed to do, then?!”

“I don’t know. I’ve never  _ fought  _ a plant before. I’ve never fought  _ anything  _ before.” Lance took a deep breath. Kill the plant, get the people out, that’s all they had to do. It shouldn’t be hard. He killed plants all the time in his apothecary. If he were trying to collect Glarionweed, what would be step one? Right, not getting eaten.

“Disable the roots, those don’t have the oil. Just don’t get fire on the vines. Also don’t get eaten.” Closing his eyes, he pulled the water over one vine, inch by inch. He peeked one eye open. The gas collected in his water but didn’t make it to the air. Okay, so far so good.

“Disable the roots, don’t touch the roots,” Keith said to himself as he danced to the side to avoid another snap from a vine. He had to lift into the air to dodge the next one. “Disable the roots, don’t touch the roots.” In another second, he saw an opening toward the base and funneled a heated blast of air towards it. 

The tendrils unwound from around the child and without thinking, Lance shot forward. He scooped the kid into his arms and rolled away. The vines followed him, snapping at the ground. Lance came to a stop with the shivering boy safely in his arms. One down. “Good, more of that!” he shouted to Keith. 

Keith’s movements would have been almost dance-like if not for the frantic, harried necessity of trying not to die. Warped cones of hot air shot from his palms, blasting the same spot at the base of the plant over and over, knocking it back a little more with each hit. Poison gas rose without Lance there to control it. “...Disable the roots, don’t touch the roots, disable the roots, don’t touch th- _ ow fuck _ !”

Lance was handing off the child when Keith cried out. He turned to find Keith curled over himself. "I told you not to touch them!" 

“I’m pretty sure the roots touched  _ me _ .” A hissing, putrescent fluid clung to Keith’s thigh, sending him down to one knee. He grit his teeth and glanced up, right to where the weed had pulled itself up from the soil fully, revealing the sharp-fanged mouth wreathed by roots at its base. Its lower jaw was dripping with the acid it had just shot at Keith and its gullet rippled as it prepared for another blast. 

Lance sent a blast of water at the plant, filling its mouth. It gurgled, spurting back acid tainted water. Every place it fell sizzled as it burned. "Not what I was hoping for," Lance muttered. 

Keith’s sides were heaving, and it was obvious he was in tremendous pain as he struggled over to Lance, beyond the reach of the frost-vines. Lance motioned him closer, collecting Keith against his side and inspecting his leg. 

Lance’s fingers were soothing but Keith had no time to relax. Scanning over the plant quickly, his eyes flashed when he looked up to where the Glarionweed was holding the man high out of their reach. 

“I have an idea,” he said, thick and strained. “But our timing is going to have to be perfect.”

Lance barely touched the open wound with his shaking fingers as he washed the acid away. “I don’t think I can do this.” Tears pricked at his eyes as he blinked them away with a shaky breath. “I’m not like you.”

Keith looked down at him, then back at the plant. “I’m not like anything. That man can’t die, so I’m not going to let him. Simple as that.” Rougher than he should’ve been, but still surprisingly tender given the circumstances, Keith grabbed Lance by the chin and forced him to make eye contact. “Now focus. How much mana have you got left?” 

“About- About half, I think.” Lance wiped his eyes with his wrist. At least Keith’s wound wasn’t growing and the acid was cleaned out. “Enough.”

“Good,” Keith’s voice gentled, but his focus was firm. “That’s good. You’re going to need all of it, I think. We can’t keep scratching this thing and letting it release that gas. I’m going to cut the man down and toss him to you. When I do, I need you to get the four of you into a water bubble immediately and you need to  _ hold  _ it. Alright? You can do this. You have to.” 

Lance nodded before the words really sunk in. “Wait you’re going to  _ throw _ him at me?”

Keith scoffed impatiently. “Not  _ at  _ you ‘at you,’ just at the - close to the - nevermind, just be ready.” Grinding his teeth against the pain, he pushed off the ground, beating his wings furiously to get into the air. 

“Hard headed dragon.” Lance stood and squatted. Stood back up and then held out his arms. This was stupid. There was no way he’d be able to catch a full grown man flung at him. Why couldn’t he have some kind of straw or-  _ Oh. _

Almost immediately, the Glarionweed started shooting the digestive acid at Keith. It missed him by a hair as he was dodged and wove in the air between its tentacle-like vines. Yes! Just as he’d hoped several bursts of acid hit the plant itself, until it was writhing and screaming. Keith used the opportunity to pull his knife from his belt and fly in close, ripping the blade at the few vines that still held the man tight. 

By that point, the man’s body was uncomfortably pale, and there was white frost across his eyebrows, lashes, and the tip of his nose. The severed vines began releasing the noxious gas, though Keith was able to beat most of it away from himself with his wings. Finally, the last vine snapped free and Keith caught the man under his arms, turning in mid-air to launch him as far as he could while yelling, “Master!” 

Lance watched the body fly, loose arms and legs flapped wildly in the air. Dropping to his knees, he slammed his palms into the ground. A mushroom expanded, covering the ground and sweeping him on top of it. As soon as it was half-formed the man’s body slammed against it and bounced. It rolled off the edge of the cap to thunk safely onto the soft moss-covered ground.

He stared numbly at it as the mushroom completed and sighed. He did it. “I did it!” He turned to Keith, excited. “I caught him!”

“BUBBLE!” Keith yelled frantically. “ _ NOW! _ ”

“Right.” Lance clapped his hands above his head and encircled himself and the whole family in a watery shield. 

Immediately, the bubble itself was surrounded by a complete conflagration.

If he looked up, he could see the flames rushing past on either side, hear the hissing as the water evaporated into steam.  _ Stars, _ dragon fire was strong. Sweat broke out along his forehead as he strained to keep the shield up. It was eating his mana pool faster than he’d thought it would. The bubble had to have air inside while keeping a thick layer of water around them for protection. It didn’t help that mother and son were screaming holy terror right in his ear. 

Right as the last of his mana was eaten by dragon fire, there was a strange, desperate sort of pushing somewhere in the back of his mind. Before he could fully react, a rush of warmth welled up from his belly and out through his fingers. It crackled in his veins, like lightning or sparks of flame, searing his body from the inside out and it  _ hurt _ . He nearly bit through his tongue in an effort to manage the pain and keep the shield intact. Whatever the surge was, it shored up the shield just in time for the fire to gather itself inward before imploding with the wet  _ slap  _ of melted ice vines raining down on his bubble.

Lance glanced up in time to see his dragon’s eyes roll back as he fell the last few feet to the ground. Every sinew in his body wanted to leap forward but Keith’s words held him in place,  _ We can’t let them die. _ He held the bubble until the last tentacle slipped from the water and landed safely in the moss. Clenching his fists, the water splashed to the floor.

“Keith!” Lance shot forward. Sliding to stop on his knees, he bent over Keith. Putrid smoke filled the air and he waved it away, wheezing through the phantom pain still in his veins. “Keith, are you okay?”

Eyelids fluttering, Keith coughed and groaned, lolling his head to the side before blinking his eyes open. “Ow,” he said ruefully. “That was a  _ terrible  _ idea. Did we win? Are they alright?” 

“The plant is definitely dead.” Lance checked on the family behind him. “And I think everyone lived, probably.” He was panting like he’d run a mile and brown edged at his vision. “Here, let me.” Holding his hand over one of the numerous acid burns, he cleaned the peeling skin. His magic pricked him as he worked, pins and needles coursing under his skin. 

Keith waved him off. “Later. Your mana’s gone, I felt it. That wasn’t fun.” He batted Lance’s hands away. “You can patch me up the old fashioned way when we get back.” 

“I can do it, just let me-”

“Get back, Magi!” said a hoarse voice from his right, shortly before the definitive thunk of an ax landed shy of Lance’s knee. It took him a moment to process what the ax was and why it’d been thrown at him, once it registered that he was being attacked, Lance yelped. He scurried back, dragging Keith a few inches away from the ax.

The villager they’d just rescued was leaning heavily on his wife, who looked equally horrified. “Get away from that - that monster!”

“It’s dead,” Lance said, staring wide-eyed at the villagers and back at the ax. “You’re safe now.”

Keith groaned again as he sat up, putting pressure on his ribcage as he did. “Are you three alright?” he asked, his voice cracking on a smoky wheeze. 

From his back, the man pulled a rickety crossbow and fitted an arrow to it even as his fingers trembled with cold. He aimed it shakily at Keith. “Go on, Master Magi, I’ll take the beast down. Get behind me, son.” 

“It’s dead I told you- Put that down!” But the crossbow wasn’t aimed at the plant, it was aimed straight for him. Slowly, he turned to blink owlishly at Keith.

His dragon’s lip curled back in a sneer. “I believe he means me,” he offered, low and tense. 

Lance stood, legs shaking. “Mister, that’s,  _ he _ isn’t a monster. The monster that attacked you was actually a Glarionweed. Which is odd for this time of year, they should all be dying out by now. Don’t worry, I’m a potions master so I can use what’s left to-” He yelped as a bolt shot passed his ear, embedding itself into a moss-choked tree a few yards behind them. 

“I know well what got my boy and me. Weed’s don’t know what’s doing, but that’s a  _ High Magic dragon _ right there, and they’ll rip your throat out soon as they lay eyes on ye.” The villager beckoned for Lance to hurry. “Can’t trust a beast like that, no matter the pretty words they give ye.” 

“That  _ beast _ saved your life.”

“Let them go,” Keith said quietly. “Let’s go back.” Struggling to his feet with a muffled cry of pain, he laid a hand on Lance’s shoulder. 

Lance shrugged him off. “No. We saved them. They should at least say thank you.”

The villager’s eyes narrowed, even as his wife murmured that perhaps they should go. “Ye’ve thrown your lot in with a cursed creature. They’re all s’posed to be dead.”

“Master,” Keith tried again. “Shiro warned me about this, we can’t make a scene.”

Sputtering, Lance waved his arms at the man who was busy loading another bolt into his crossbow. “Keith might not know shit from hornedmusk and he’s hot-headed and sleeps too late, but he’s good at sweeping and he’s  _ trying _ to learn the difference. So- So you can take your stupid plant and shove it right up your oof-” 

He didn’t get to finish that sentence. Keith grasped him around the middle and used the last of his energy to take them into the air, corkscrewing once or twice to miss the few errant bolts the man tried to fire after them. They didn’t make it far, Keith was too exhausted, but he carried them at least to the edges of the Mogmire before his feet dragged against the grass and he finally fell to the ground on his back with a depleted sigh. 

Lance lay with his arms crossed and lip jutting out in a pout. Now that the wind noise was gone, Keith could hear his endless, quiet complaints.

“- Could’ve taken them. If you’d let me. I would’ve done it. Taken that stupid plant and shoved it where the Goddesses wouldn’t dare look. How dare he. A beast,  _ my familiar _ , a  _ beast _ . Wait until the Magerium hears about this.”

Keith lifted his head off the ground enough to peer down at him and huffed once in amused exhaustion before letting it flop back down. “They wouldn’t care. You heard the man - that’s why my kind is extinct. But...I appreciate your, er, passionate defense. Of my evidently questionable character.” 

Lance looked him in the eye. “It was all true. Every last word. I meant it.”

“Most of it was an insult.” 

That stunned Lance into a moment of silence, opening his mouth and closing it again. “You’ve mastered sweeping,” he said at last.

“Thank you, Master,” Keith said dryly, still wheezing with Lance’s weight on his chest. “For the promotion. Perhaps if I woke earlier, I’d have mastered cork-bottling by now.” 

“You’ll figure it out. I won’t help you anymore until you do.” Lance nodded to himself. “And you’ll wake up at dawn and I’ll show you hornedmusk so you’ll know it and then we’ll go back there and I’ll tell that ungrateful man how you’ve improved right after I curse him with darkened roads for the rest of his life.”

It took a moment to register that the reason Lance was shaking a bit was because Keith was laughing - or rather, laughing as best he could with lungs scorched with enough of his own fire to make him guzzle tea for a week. “That’s very kind. But I’d settle for some salve on these burns and a good night’s rest.”

“Oh!” Lance scrambled off him. He kneed Keith’s stomach and fell, tumbling into the grass. Sitting up, he hovered over Keith. “Oh no, you’re burned and now I kicked you.”

“These things...are both true.”

“I’m sorry.” Lance held out his hand as he stood, a little too fast. He was more tired than he’d thought. “We should get you back to the apothecary.”

Accepting it, Keith allowed Lance to haul him up to his shaky feet. “...Master. Um. About earlier. I’m sorry.”

Lance squeezed his hand. “Yeah, no, that’s fine.” He fell forward, head thunking against Keith's chest.

Beneath him, Keith sucked in a breath and froze, letting out a small, startled, “Master?”

Blackness overtook his vision as he swooned on his feet. It was probably an effect of the exhaustion, but right before he passed out, he thought he heard Keith calling his name. 

~🍄~

He woke before dawn the next morning, as usual. Unusual, however, was the empty blanket nest under his bed. The fire was going, the tea was steeping, and instead of his dragon, there was a neat bundle to greet him on his favorite chair. He padded over to it, curiosity getting the better of him despite the hour. 

It was an ordinary piece of sackcloth, lightly tied with brown string. Lance pulled one of the loose ends and the cloth fell open. No less than seven viable Glarionweed tentacles sat perfectly harvested and ready to become a balm. On top of it, copied in tidy script, was the Herbologist’s Compendium entry on hornedmusk. 

Lance’s heart thumped against his rib cage as a smile warmed his face. 

~🍄~

Fifteen Summers Ago

Keith licked his plate clean with a tiny forked dragon tongue as he scratched at the nubs on his head. Shiro poked at his omelette, turning pieces of egg this way and that. “No scratching.”

“ _ Nnnnn _ ,” Keith pouted. “They’re  _ itchyyy _ .”

“I know they itch, but you’re going to hurt yourself.” Rubbing at his eyes, he checked the candle burning in the corner. Half a candlemark to go before the new students arrived. “I wish I could send you in my place,” he whined at Adam, grabbing one of Keith’s small clawed hands and squeezing it to halt its assault on the poor dragon’s head. Keith’s tongue flicked out in irritation.

Adam looked over from where he’d been slicing and bundling cheese and bread to send as part of Shiro’s lunch. “Why are you so reluctant to go this season? You’ve always enjoyed meeting the new apprentices in the past.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m so full of child-time that I don’t need any more.” Abandoning his eggs, Shiro snatched Keith’s other hand that was doing double the work. Adam watched them wrestle with a rueful smile. 

“Yes, but  _ those  _ children may actually listen to you,” he said, coming over to the table to scoop Keith up and bop him reproachfully on the end of his nose. “Stop that. You know better.”

Keith huffed, but crossed his arms in defeat. 

“While I’m gone, can you see if the Potions Master has some ointment for an itch? You can make up something about me being itchy, it’ll come faster if it’s the King’s Mage that’s in discomfort.”

Adam smirked. “Oh, I can think of a few things I could tell them.”

“Try to not make it too embarrassing.” Shoveling a spoonful of eggs in his mouth, he left the rest to cool. “You sure you don’t want to trade? Hundreds of new children to test and sort, it'll be lots of fun.”

“As tempting as that is…”

Keith interrupted him and flapped his wings at Shiro. “I’ll go! I can train. I’m good at magic.”

Shiro squished his cheeks and bumped their foreheads together. Keith smelled like fresh burning wood, mixed with the scent of baked bread that hung around Adam’s fingers. “You’re so good at magic. Someday you’ll get to meet one of these Magi and they’ll be a partner for you; someone who needs your help with all of their magic. Think you can do that?”

“Yes, Sir,” Keith said very politely, as he’d been taught whenever the topic was a lesson of some variety. “But how come not now? Can’t I just come watch? I’ll be good and stay hidden, swear.”

Shiro turned down Keith’s tunic collar enough to show the distinct brown birthmark on his chest, the interlocking circles almost like a three-leaf clover, and tapped it. “This is your very special summoning mark that Hoile herself placed on you. You have to wait until Hoile is ready for you to be given away. I know you’ll work very hard until that day won’t you?”

Keith’s small face, still round with residual baby fat, became very serious. “Yes, Sir.”

“And maybe if you’re a good boy and listen to  _ Damdam _ ,” he said, already facing his familiar’s glare, “He’ll let you see the new students as long as you stay hidden.”

Adam pinched his lips as Keith looked up at him, all wide, hopeful eyes. “I will, I’ll be very good, the most good, Damdam, please?” 

Eventually, Adam’s shoulders relaxed in a sigh. “And here I was thinking we might both take a nap today. Very well, we’ll see. Clear your plates, please, and let me say goodbye to  _ Shi-do _ .”

Keith squirmed to be let down and dutifully began gathering his plate before looking at Shiro’s and sending him a reproachful glance. “You didn’t eat all your food  _ and _ you excused  _ yourself _ . Maybe I’m not the one that needs to be good.”

“Oh  _ ho, _ is that so? Sounds like someone needs some tickles. Get over here, you little monster.” Shiro ran at Keith, tickle-fingers out.

Shrieking with laughter, Keith took off running as Adam silently went back to cutting bread, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. 

~🍄~

The sun beat down on Shiro’s neck as he stood next to the Elders. Carts of children all dressed in white unloaded onto the wet grass under the heat of the afternoon. The noble children, sons and daughters of other Magi and the King’s Court, strolled in under parasols with their clothes dyed in the colors of their houses. It always made him bite the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything undue in the presence of the elders, but the obvious pomp of it all made him seethe. It wasn’t all that long ago that he’d been a nameless, penniless acolyte in a hand-me-down robe two sizes too small. 

“Seems as if there are more of them every year,” Elder Herren commented from beside Shiro, mopping at his reddened brow with a damp handkerchief. “One wonders why we never learned to stagger the intake numbers, or accept the new students in a more comfortable season.”

“Mid Summer is tradition. We must not forget that it was summer when Hoile brought us our-”

“Yes, yes, Sanders, but that does not make the sun any less hot.” 

Ignoring the bantering old men, Shiro watched the carts unload instead of listen to Herren pointing out this child or that who was from this line or that one. The two groups of children were about to intermix and it never failed to be a  _ situation  _ every year. 

Sure enough, it was less than a quarter-candlemark before a young boy with a mop of curly yellow hair came running up to Shiro and the Elders.

“Master Maggiii,” he whined, setting Shiro’s teeth on edge. “One of these boys is a Star Cursed and he’s making plants when he’s supposed to be making water but he’s  _ doing  _ it and he’s not  _ supposed  _ to!” 

The Elders looked between each other before Geeve said, "Oh, please do check on them, Shiro. You're much better equipped to deal with feisty children in this heat, what with your young muscles and all." 

Shiro bit back both a reprimand for the child calling someone else  _ star cursed  _ and a retort about where Greeve could shove his words. Instead he said to the little boy, "Take me to him." 

The child took his hand and dragged him toward the scene of the crime. A boy in white was shoved up against the castle wall by James, nephew of Greeve.  _ Fantastic _ . This just got a little more complicated.

“James Griffin?” Shiro called, crossing his arms and frowning. If he used his Light magic to darken the sky behind him just a bit to appear more intimidating...well. No one else need know. “Certainly you’re not starting a fight with another recruit on the Day of Trials? You’ve barely been here a candlemark.”

All the children froze at the sound of Shiro’s voice except James, who was sliding the boy higher and higher up the wall.  _ Wind mages _ , Shiro thought,  _ all assholes. _ He brushed off the voice that reminded him that James was still a child. A child that was holding another poor kid at least six feet off the ground. “Put him down right now.” No response. 

Well, fine. 

The other kids parted to let Shiro through and the boy in the air squeaked, swinging his legs. Raising his hand, Shiro rotated his wrist, drawing the light from around James’ head, funneling it into nothing until his eyes were wreathed in shadow. Immediately, James cried out and began to panic, enough for his magic to fumble and the boy to hit the dirt on his behind. 

With another flourish of his fingers, the shadows dissipated and the light returned to normal. James whirled on Shiro with wide, frightened eyes. 

“King’s Mage! What is the meaning of this!” 

Elder Greeve trotted over, looking stormy. His thin hair flapped limply against his shoulders as he moved, dark eyes already threatening repercussions. As he often did, he reminded Shiro of a small dog trying very hard to be intimidating. 

Instantly, James burst into theatrical, exaggerated tears and ran to Greeve, who thumped the back of his head and told him to stop sniveling. “What happened here, among these children, to warrant a distortion spell on  _ my  _ nephew?”

Shiro kept his face neutral. “Trainers have the right to utilize harmless spells when a student refuses to listen. James here was attacking a fellow recruit. I simply did what had to be done.” 

“Oh, I hardly imagine James would  _ attack  _ anyone,” Greeve scoffed. “Would you, James.” It wasn’t a question. The boy looked up at his uncle and shook his head, sniffling.

“No, Uncle. Never. They all said he was doing star cursed magic. I was just trying to protect everybody.” 

"I wasn't! It was water, just… a casing," the accused boy stood, wincing from the fall. "I'm not star cursed." 

Blonde and snitching piped up next to Shiro, "He is, he is! I saw him make mushrooms, I saw it." 

“What’s so awful about that?” Shiro blinked. 

"He's a Water mage," James said, spitting the words. 

"They're made out of water." The child lept for James, fists out. 

Shiro stepped in front of James, easily catching the small fists in his own hands. “That’s enough. We’re going for a walk.” 

"King's Mage, this is below you. Send him away, we do not need violent children becoming Magi." Greeve patted James on the head and sent him off. James turned and stuck out his tongue which caused the boy in his grasp to try and escape. 

“Then I suggest you do the same for your nephew, Elder Greeve,” Shiro said, even as he wrangled the boy into being still. “As I suspect that won’t happen, I’ll handle this the way I see fit.” 

Being exceptionally uninterested in anything Greeve might say to that, Shiro simply turned, hauling the boy up by the collar long enough to spin him in the opposite direction. “Walk, apprentice.” 

He did walk, but it was so forlorn and depressing that it pulled uncomfortably at Shiro's heartstrings. 

"M'sorry," the child mumbled as he walked, head down, "Please don't send me back." 

Shiro’s wooden hand came down on the boy’s shoulder. “That’s up to you.” Once they were far enough away from the main group, Shiro sank down and patted the grass next to him. “You’re going to tell me what happened, in your words. But first, tell me your name.” 

Sharp blue eyes narrowed, looking between the spot of grass and Shiro. "Lance, uh, Lance Alexander Fuentes d’Metrella." He bowed clumsy and stiff but didn't sit. 

“Hi Lance. I’m Shiro. And I’m trying to help you, so please sit down.” 

Lance sat his butt down right where he was and crossed his arms. For such a little thing, he sure was full of defiance. Shiro didn’t know whether to sigh or smile. 

“You know,” he said casually. “The day I came to be tested, I almost got into a fight, too. I didn’t have my wooden arm yet, and a few kids said I’d never be a mage with only one hand. I told them I only needed one arm to punch.” 

He glanced down to see Lance’s reaction. His cheeks were puffed as he tried not to laugh; bursts of rude noises slipped out with the air as he failed. Shiro smirked. 

“Do you know what my job is?”

Lance nodded, the air leaving his cheeks. "King's Mage," he said pointing to the black and white ropes tied around his waist. 

“So obviously they weren’t right, were they?” Shiro leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he smiled at the boy. “But I’ll tell you something else: they get away with a lot, and it’s not fair, and it makes you want to fight back. But if you do, you’ll be the one to get in trouble. You just have to ignore them and prove them wrong by doing your best.”

"But." Lance's face twisted up in confusion. "They were calling me star cursed." Tears welled up and he bit his wobbling lip as he stared up at Shiro. 

_ Oh no _ , it was the same look Keith gave him that always broke him down. It was everything he could do not to sweep the boy into his arms and wipe away the tears. “I know, and that was really mean of them. Will you show me the magic you were doing? I promise I won’t be mad or send you away.” 

Lance bit his lip, checking around them for anyone that would see. 

With a smile, Shiro raised his hand and twirled his wrist, making the air around them bend and refract. He didn’t often use this particular trick anymore - in fact, outside of the occasional need to hide during a mission, he hadn’t created an invisibility shield since he’d been in Lance’s shoes. “Don’t worry, they can’t see us now. It’s safe.” 

Sticking his finger in the ground, Lance squeezed his eyes shut. A red mushroom spotted with white dots popped up and wobbled as he let it go. "This," Lance whispered. 

Shiro watched it jiggle for a moment before he prodded it. The skin of the mushroom squished inward before it eventually burst open. It wasn’t quite plant magic per se, but it was also more than he’d ever seen a water mage manage. None of the ones he’d ever known were able to enclose water in its own casing; they either had to constantly contain it with concentrated mana or bring their own bucket. He looked up at Lance, curiosity more than piqued. 

“That’s a wonderful trick,” he said appraisingly. “But it doesn’t mean you’re star cursed. Not at all.”

"Really?" Lance grinned. "I can do more." He pressed his hands onto the ground and giant mushrooms popped up around them in a circle. Their caps unfurled above Shiro's head, dangling drops of dew on their edges. A village of gnome-dolls with their tiny houses and flower-trees in their yards spread out between Shiro and Lance. A sky spread and shifted between the giant mushroom caps, turning to night as speckled stars shown down on the mini-town. Several of the gnomes gathered around small campfires that snapped and crackled. It was as if Shiro was transported into another world of watery gnomes. Lance lifted his hands and panted. Gasping between breaths he said, “This is my favorite to play with.”

Shiro just gaped. 

The mushrooms alone were impressive, but to command more than one type of magic, more than one  _ element _ ? That was the definition of the term “star cursed.” Hoile had given the gift of one blessing per mage. This, as the teachings of the Magerium outlined, was unnatural. Shiro was, privately, not a very religious man, but the others were. Poor child; he didn’t want to know what the Elders would do. 

“That,” he said, careful to keep his voice bright, “is  _ very  _ impressive!”

Lance picked up one of the dolls and it deflated in his hand, sending water flooding into his town. “I haven't figured out how to pick them up though. My brother doesn’t like this one; he likes the castle because he likes to play king. But I like this one the most. Can you make it so we can pick up the gnomes?”

Shiro gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I can’t. I’m a light mage, but that’s it. Perhaps you’ll figure it out with more practice.” 

“Oh, that’s okay. We can still play with them. This one is named Dotty,” Lance said, pointing to one in a speckled hat. “You can be her.”

“That’s a good name, but I’m afraid playing will have to wait. You still have yet to perform your trial.” Shiro gave him a tight smile and a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Are you ready to go back?” 

“Go back?” Lance asked, looking back towards the Magierum as if he could see it through the mushrooms he’d built. He sagged under Shiro’s hand, dropping the damp and deflated gnome. “I guess so.” Everything burst all at once. Water sprayed everywhere, the miniature campfire extinguishing with a hiss. The afternoon sun shone down, and Shiro hadn’t even realized how cool it’d been under the cover of the mushrooms. 

He stood, licking the water from his lips and wringing out his tunic, spluttering a little as he did. Even as a water mage, this kid was gifted. "Remember what I said, you need to always take the high ground especially with James and his kind. It's better for everyone if you lay low." 

Lance nodded, worrying his lip. "Okay, I promise I'll try." He pulled at the air, using his whole body and almost fell over. 

Shiro looked down to find the tunic that he was twisting completely dry. Awed and perplexed, he just shook his head, grateful beyond measure that he was not the one  _ giving  _ the trial. “Thank you.”

Lance wobbled and stumbled forward with a yelp. Catching himself on his hands and knees, he saved himself from planting face-first into the mud. "Welcome, King's Mage," he muttered at the ground. 

Bending, Shiro gently lifted the boy up by the armpits, just as he did with Keith. Setting Lance back on his feet, he had an internal debate with himself before offering his hand. As King’s Mage, he wasn’t supposed to show any favoritism, but…well, raising an equally stubborn boy must have softened him somewhat. And the kid looked like he could use a friend. 

Lance grabbed his pointer finger, his whole hand wrapping around the single digit. “Do you think they’ll like my doll house? I really want to be a King’s Mage like you.” He hopped as he talked, walking sideways and staring up at Shiro with bright blue eyes. “I’ll work really hard, I promise.”

Shiro stopped, at a crossroads of sorts. He looked down at the freckled face gazing up at him and his chest ached for the sort of future the boy would likely have. Covering the small hand with his wooden palm, Shiro looked at him, kind but serious.

“Lance, your magic is incredible, and the things you choose to use it for would probably make a lot of people smile.” Shiro licked his lips. “But you can’t show it to them. Remember what I told you? Work really hard, but don’t give people like James anything to use against you.”

The pep immediately deflated from Lance. “So it is bad,” he said, hands going limp in Shiro’s grasp.

“Listen to me - okay? You are  _ not  _ star cursed. That’s just a mean name people throw around. I’m, well.” He ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed. “I’m not really sure what sort of magic you have, but I don’t think it’s bad at all. Or makes you a bad person.”

“If it’s not bad then why can’t I show them?”

Shiro gave Lance’s hand a squeeze. “Because not everyone is smart enough to know the difference between something that is bad, and something that is simply different.”

Emotions flashed across Lance’s face, open and heartbreaking, eventually they settled on resigned. “Okay, I won’t show them,” Lance said at last. Shiro let out a pained breath, feeling as if he’d personally just shattered about a thousand of this kid’s dreams, and tugged his hand to get Lance’s attention. 

“Okay. But I want you to know - I feel really lucky that you showed it to me. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

Lance nodded, but his attention was on the Magerium. Shiro followed his gaze. It’s alabaster towers jutted into the sky, a promise of knowledge in exchange for strict adherence to rules. It even kept him under its thumb, how would it break someone like Lance? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Autumn: In case anyone other than us is remotely interested, we do create playlists for our fics. I use them, at least, just for inspiration while writing. For example, the playlist for The Sorcerer and His Dragon isn't because the songs necessarily fit this particular story - they're just dragon-y and fantasy-like. But you're welcome to listen along as well! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1yHCXvPVYV5WtXSrpxfyRW Thank you so much for the comments and engagement we've been getting - it REALLY helps keep us motivated, so shameless begging: please keep it up ❤️
> 
> Sail: omg so this is by far my favorite of the early chapters uwu i know everyone was going bananas over baby dragon keith but my heart, of course, is with baby lance ugh, look at him all sunshine and then the Magerium comes along to CRUSH HIM WITH THEIR BOOT *cough* i mean, uwu, baby lance
> 
> *jazz hands* a wild twitter has appeared: [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what's cool? not me  
> ...  
> follow us on twitter! [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

~🍄~

Spring 

The room was plastered in the five colors of Highmount. Streamers hung from the walls, covering tapestries and livening up the stone. Golden candlesticks held colorful wax candles that burned merrily in the early morning light. The room opened up onto a balcony where the tapestry for the King’s Mage hung in majestic black. Shiro sat in the cold spring air, tugging at his collar and wishing the fire’s warmth would burn a little hotter.

“If you tug your collar any more, you’ll pull it straight from your tunic,” Adam chided. “And if you do, I refuse to sew it back on. You’re as bad as Keith was.” He poured Shiro a new cup of tea, the porcelain clinking against the white table cloth. 

Shiro abandoned his collar for one of the tea sandwiches piled high on his painted plate. “We only have an hour before we’re joined by his majesty. They should be here by now,” he said around a bite of cucumber and bread.

“Peace, love.” Adam rested a hand on top of Shiro’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “It’s been less than a quarter candlemark. They’ll be here.” 

Shiro relaxed into Adam’s palm. “If they’d let me meet them in our usual spot I could’ve hid them, now they’ll be out in the open until they get here.” He closed his eyes and leaned back. Cracking one eye open he smirked. “Keith is gone, we’re all alone, maybe I can spend some time enjoying you before they show up.”

Adam raised an amused eyebrow as he fingered the loop of his ceremonial collar. “Well, I must say, this thing always looked much more fetching on you than me.”

“If you come over here, I’ll let you put it on me.”

“At least have the decency to wait until we’re gone, King’s Mage,” came a light, teasing voice from above them. It was followed by a shock of red curls as Annalys’ head popped out, hanging upside down from the roof. In a few more moments, she maneuvered down to the balcony, accompanied by the gust of her familiar flapping his wings as he landed beside her. 

Shiro swallowed his yelp and cleared his throat. “Please, Annalys, use the door sometimes. My heart is getting old and can’t take your rooftop entrances anymore.”

“Well, you said to use the utmost caution, so we came the only way we wouldn’t be seen. You’re welcome. Hullo, Adam.”

Adam smirked, his hand still resting on Shiro’s head. “Annalys. Oriax.”

Shiro never tired of seeing Oriax. As a Strix, he was considered Midmagic, like Adam. Unlike Adam, he did not have a human form, but he was naturally humanoid on his own. His upper torso and face were all human, but from his belly down, he had the feathered legs and claws of an owl. His “hair,” too, was comprised of feathers, and though his face often looked stern, it softened considerably when he looked at his Mistress. 

“Bright suns to you, Adam, King’s Mage,” he said with a bow. 

"And to you," Shiro greeted. "Both of you sit down before you make Adam feel like a horrible host." 

Adam gave a rumbling growl, but went to fetch the tea tray. 

Annalys’ smile fell as soon as he left. 

Shiro frowned and leaned forward. “That bad? I didn’t realize a few missing stores of Confliberries and salt would conjure such a face.”

She waved him off. “Forget the berries and salt - let the Potions Masters monitor their own inventory. I’m afraid I’ll be spoiling this nice tea party with something worse. We’ve had some deeply troubling reports come in.”

"How could anything be worse than our own people stealing from, or worse, attacking us?" 

“That they will be attacking tonight,” Oriax’s deep voice broke in. “At the ball, to be specific.” 

Shiro sat up. "They wouldn't dare. If the animal you saw attacking really was Parlin's familiar as you said…He was radical, yes. Attacking a convoy I could see. But, the Spring Ball?" He stared down into the throng that had gathered below for the parade. Keith would be there with that Fuentes boy. "Are you sure?" 

Annalys fished in her satchel and pulled out a folded piece of parchment, suspiciously stained. “Read it for yourself. Instructions for where to station spotters and alternate routes into the castle.”

Shiro read it, then read it again, and finally he passed it over to Adam who had returned with the tea. He bounced his leg as Adam took in the instructions that clearly outlined all the castle's weak points. When Adam handed it back he looked it over a third time. "Please tell me this doesn't mean what I think it means." 

Oriax accepted his cup of tea from Adam with more decorum than the action required. Annalys sent him a small smile before her face dropped once more. She looked exceptionally tired. “If you think it means that there is someone or multiple someones working from inside the Magerium, then yes, I’m afraid so.” 

Shiro held Annalys's gaze. "So, it's not just one or two rouge Magi taking out our supply lines disguised as animal attacks, it's closer than that. Too close."

“Exactly. And we’ve no way of knowing how high up this goes.”

"Who's left we can trust?" 

Annalys sat back, frowning at the table. “A few others in, erm, similar situations to ours.” She cast a meaningful glance at Adam and Oriax. Having Oriax as her lover was the thing that had allowed Shiro to trust her in the first place. They held each other’s greatest secret, which situated them as equals. “I think most of the Elders are oblivious. Mostly it’s just the network we’ve built in the servant classes left. But I’ve made certain a few of them are carrying trays tonight at the ball to keep an eye on Keith.” 

"You didn't have to do that, Annalys." Before she could protest he grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "But, I appreciate it. He may be High Magic, but he doesn't know much about the world." 

“If I may,” Adam interjected. He’d been quiet, staring at the view of the harbor from their balcony. “The reports said that the animals attacking were rabid. But we have now established these ‘animals’ to be familiars. Were they merely being told to attack, or were they truly feral? The only way I know that to occur is if a bond is forcefully broken, such as by the murder of a Master.”

Shiro froze as his blood ran cold. He stared at Adam, mouth agape. "Adam," he admonished, harsh and a warning. 

Adam stared right back at him. “I am simply saying there may be more to this than we realize. No magi would willingly break their own bond. It would cause insanity in the Master just as much as the Familiar.”

"There are many things I can tolerate, but this line of thinking has gone too far. No one, part of the Magerium or not, would ever do something so blasphemous." He turned to Annalys, beseeching her with his eyes. "Investigate who is behind this. I have to know before the ball.”

She glanced between Shiro and Adam before nodding. “Yes, King’s Mage. We’ll do our best to quell whatever this insurgence is before it even has a chance to start. Just be especially wary.” 

"I will be on full alert." As if there was anything else he could be after what Adam suggested. Shiro stood, glancing at the candle in the corner. "His majesty will be here soon, be sure you're not seen." 

Oriax stood and pulled the chair out for Annalys. She gave Shiro a wink and a thumbs up. “No worries on that front, Sir. No one can fly stealthy like a Strix.” 

Shiro smiled, thin and strained. "I believe it. I'll be waiting." He tilted his head in a bow just as there was a knock at the door.

In a near-silent swoop, they were both gone, off the balcony and into the air before Shiro could so much as blink. Adam sent him an indecipherable look before he wordlessly left to open the door. 

~🍄~

All of Highmount was in a frenzy, from the harbor market in Salt Town all the way to the edges of the Grand Magerium. The Introduction of Burgeoning Sorcerers and Subsequent Presentation of Familiars - or, more informally known as ‘The High Spring Ball’ - was the biggest event of the year in that it was the only one where the celebration extended down into the village itself. 

The Sorcerers and their familiars would take the long way to the Palace, going east from the Magerium and down through the forest, past the harbor and then up the hill into Highmount Village. They would walk through town in a parade of sorts, and this menagerie and spectacle was especially beloved by children, who always stood on the sides with treats and ribbons to pamper the newly sentient familiars. From the village, they would climb the long road to the palace and enter from the front portcullis, through the courtyard, and finally into the palace proper. One by one, they would be introduced and presented to King Alfor himself, who would bestow upon them the official title of Sorcerer of the Realm, signifying that while the Magerium recognized their ability to perform magic, the Kingdom recognized them as valued servants to the crown. 

Neither Lance nor Keith had been looking forward to this moment, and the morning was spent in tense silence - once Keith even deigned to crawl out from under the bed in the first place. 

Keith had taken it upon himself to press their formal attire, as it turned out that being a dragon, and thus able to control the temperature of one’s breath, made one unusually gifted at laundry. By the time the sun was turning the sky daffodil-yellow and lilac, he had everything freshly steamed and neatly laid out. All that was left was to actually dress and face the fact that they would soon need to leave. 

Lance’s outfit was the same as all of the other newly minted sorcerers: dark blue leggings, knee-high brown leather boots, a dark blue doublet and a grey undershirt. His was a bit frayed around the stitching, but some careful steaming on Keith’s part disguised that by bringing out the cobalt color of the velvet. As Keith was to wear the blue and white cords of a potion master, Lance had a set of cords of his own: black, to signify High Magic, and a bright blood-red that had not seen use in several centuries: the color of a Northern Red dragon familiar. 

It took Keith an unusually long time to bathe - unless that was par for the course, Lance couldn’t say yet, but he seemed to have spent an extravagant amount of time on the other side of the divider just sitting in the small wooden tub. The rustling of his dressing was slow, and by the time he emerged, fully bedecked in his black and silver formal wear, it was nearly time to go. 

Everything about Keith was proper and presentable...except the wet, curling mess around his face. With sullen eyes, Keith cleared his throat to get his Master’s attention. 

Lance did his best to look like he hadn’t been staring from the corner of his eye as he tugged at the stiff shirt cuffs. “Ready?”

With a huff, Keith thrust out his comb. “Um. Do you know how to...could you help?” He gestured with the comb at his hair. “Please?”

“Sure.” Lance took the comb and nodded at the bed. “Sit on the floor. Let me grab something.” He didn’t wait for Keith as he turned to the dresser and dug around in the top drawer. Finding what he was looking for, he turned to see Keith sitting obediently with his legs crossed.

“Here.” He held out the strip of velvet ribbon he’d saved every last copper for since being accepted to the Magerium. “It’s for you. Well for whoever was going to be my familiar. I didn’t think you’d have hair, but I guess it's more practical. Would you like to wear it?”

Keith visibly perked up, his wings fanning out as he eyed it. “Very much. Thank you, Master.” He even graced Lance with the ghost of a smile, one fang peeking from behind his lower lip. “Do you know how to braid? My hair tends to rebel against being tied.”

“Do I know how to braid,” Lance mocked. “The horns might be difficult, but just tell me what you want and I can do it.”

“I didn’t know there were options. I’ve never had anything but the standard.” 

“A basic plait is a bit underwhelming for the occasion. If you don’t mind leaving it to me, I can give you something fitting.”

From the pleased spark in his yellow eyes, Lance had just learned something about his dragon. “Sure.”

“It might hurt in a few hours since you’re not used to it,” Lance warned before proceeding to tug, tighten, and forcefully tame Keith’s hair. The whole time he was careful to not touch the horns. It was weird enough touching his hair. Because of them, though, the braid ended up more intricate since Lance had three sections to control. It wove from his hairline between the horns and around both sides, pulling up in the middle to meet almost between them before forming a fishtail all the way down. Interwoven between each plait was the velvet ribbon that peeked out here and there before finishing in a bow.

“There.” Lance gave the bow one final tug. “Do you have a looking glass?”

Keith shook his head and reached up to touch the tail that went swinging. “No. Not anymore.”

“What happened to it? Nevermind, that’s not the point. I have one in the top drawer. Go take a look.”

Standing from the floor and brushing off his black doublet, Keith did as he was told and held the mirror up, turning his head from side to side to see the plaits that now showed off his pointed ears and high forehead. He glanced to Lance for approval. “It’s very well done, Master, thank you. Am I acceptable to you?”

Anytime Keith worded his sentences like that, it always put Lance on edge. If only Keith would calm down with the politeness when they were alone. “You look very nice. You’d probably look more impressive in your dragon form, but then I’m not sure you’d fit in the ball room with everyone else.” Lance giggled to himself. That sounded nice, then they might be sent home and he could finally sleep.

“I wish I could.” Keith rolled his eyes. “There is some stupid rule in some dusty old book that says High Magic creatures can’t be in their primal forms in the village. Like I’m going to get hungry and eat a child or something. It’s not fair.” 

"At least that would be exciting." Lance grabbed the potion and held the door open for Keith. "Time to be gawked at." 

Before they left, Keith tucked his collar and chain inside his doublet. “Can’t wait.”

As a kid, Lance loved the parade and dreamed about being in it someday. The problem was that he'd assumed that he'd be powerful and strong with his familiar sporting a black and purple cord, not blue and white. 

The day was overly hot for spring and by the time they made it to the village, Lance was sweating through his doublet. Kids were throwing treats directly at Keith's head and they were both covered in colorful paper. He had the distinct feeling that the kids were actually aiming for the ice bear in front of them since Keith looked human besides his horns, wings, and tail. 

“I swear on all nine hells,” Keith growled between his gritted teeth. “If one more grubby little sack of flesh hits me with one more fucking caramel, I  _ will  _ change form and remind everyone why I’m not allowed to be a dragon.” 

“Those treats are for you; you should enjoy them,” Lance said around a taffy.

Keith’s entire face contorted in disgust. “This stuff? Do you know how long it would take to get it out of my teeth? I’m sure all the dogs and pigs and raccoons are enjoying this but I jus- _ ow _ !”

A butterscotch hit him square in the nose and Keith’s expression darkened further. 

“Mamaaa,” a little girl whined and pointed at Keith. “That one’s just a  _ boy _ , Pa said you can’t have a  _ person _ , because I wanted to have -”

Keith glared at her and snapped his wings up, smacking a goat familiar in the face. It bleated at him in accusation. “Say that again!” Keith challenged the twintail-wearing toddler, flames licking up his face. 

Lance put a hand on Keith’s arm. “They’re just kids. Try to control your temper; I can’t have any incidents.”

That was enough for Keith to lower his wings and keep walking, but his eyes were still stormy. “Yes,” he ground out, “Master.” 

Ugh, back to being extra formal. Lance wanted to curl up and go home. 

By the time they reached the upper levels of town, the crowds of children thinned out to be replaced by mostly merchants. That allowed Keith to cool himself back into collected impassivity. Where most of the smaller animals were practically dancing at their masters’ sides in joy, Keith kept his stride proud and purposeful and two steps behind Lance at all times. Neither of them could miss the wide-eyed whispering as they walked, or the scrutiny that seeing Keith then placed on Lance. In short, it was a very long two miles. 

As they pooled into a large mass by the palace’s portcullis, Keith fished out his collar and chain and handed them to Lance. “Now seems like a good time,” he said, clipped and a little chilly, “given that everyone else already has theirs on.” 

“Well not everyone else has a High Magic familiar,” Lance mumbled. The collar was warm from Keith’s body heat, almost hot. It felt like it was trying to burn itself into Lance’s skin. As quickly as he could, he snapped it around Keith’s neck and attached the chain. The other end was supposed to attach to his outfit. Most people opted to attach it to their cords. It felt the same as tethering a dog and he wanted to get rid of it, not attach it.

The weight of the chain was almost as bad as the collar. He bounced it a few times in his hand before an idea struck him. He attached it just under the stiff collar of his gray shirt. It wasn’t actually equal and no one would think of it as such, but it did make him feel better. “Our present is liquid moon. It took me all month to make,” Lance said, handing over the bag. “ _ Nothing _ can happen to it.”

His familiar seemed genuinely intrigued by that. It made Lance stand a little straighter from pride. It wasn’t riches or jewels or anything magnificent, but he had worked hard and done a good job. The best job, honestly. It was probably the most potent liquid moon made in centuries. Keith peeked inside the bag and looked up at him. The light of the potion shone silver on his face and turned his golden eyes brass. “That’s a nice name. What does it do?”

"Besides glow?” Lance chuckled to himself, proud of how bright it turned out. “It gives you, let's say, very nice dreams. Imagine the happiest, most content you've ever been. Now, multiply that by one hundred." 

Keith raised his eyebrows. “That is a lot of blankets. And spice cake.” 

"The  _ most _ spice cake. One drop of this and you'll think spice cake is dirt. It's best to leave liquid moon for the nobles and keep enjoying spice cake for what it is." 

Keith nodded as if it was a command.

The crowd began to move and a line formed with the highest ranked members going first. They had a while to wait before they could even get in line. 

Which meant they also had a while to...socialize.

“Hello, Lesser Potions Master Fuentes,” said a cheery voice from behind Lance. “I have to say, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” 

Lance immediately prickled. "James," he said before even turning to see who it was. "What do you want?" 

James Griffin, Master Wind Mage, slung a friendly arm around Lance’s shoulder. “To say hello, of course - and to see the familiar everyone’s talking about. Come on, seriously - how  _ did  _ you manage to pull a stunt like that in front of the Elders?”

"I didn't." Lance ducked his head, trying to get away without actually pulling away. It was always worse to resist. "It just happened." 

“Keep your secrets for now I guess.” James laughed and tightened his hold, pulling Lance against him in a vice grip. “Not a soul in the Magerium thinks you, of all people, actually summoned a  _ dragon. _ ”

Said dragon was watching the two of them, brows drawing together and gaze darkening. He looked at Lance, practically begging with his eyes to be allowed to speak. 

Lance shook his head in a singular, jerky motion, trying not to tip off James. "Your familiar looks nice today. You should show it around to the others." 

“And where exactly is yours. Did it run away ashamed of how helpless a master it was summoned to?” James lifted his rat up so it could crawl from his hand onto his shoulder. It twitched its whiskers and rubbed at its ear, preening in a little green ribbon. “Gratitude!” it chirped, but James wasn’t smiling. 

“I didn’t. I-” Shame closed Lance’s throat. While he knew James was being cruel for cruelty's sake, he was also right. Keith was too powerful for him.

“You’re not going to be able to dance around this forever, Fuentes. Sooner or later, someone is going to…” He trailed off as his eyes found the silver chain at Lance’s collar. Stepping back, he followed it to Keith, who stood fuming to one side. “Well, look at that.”

Finally, Keith could not keep his mouth closed any longer. “Well met,” he said, all brimstone. “ _ I _ am Master Fuentes’  _ dragon _ .”

“So you are.” James’ tone was no longer snide, but approving, almost predatory. He looked over Keith, not even bothering to hide his blatant appraisal. “Look at that, Kiri. I show you how to turn invisible. Lance uses his familiar to play  _ dress up. _ ”

Now Keith was really bristling. “I wouldn’t talk to my Master that way if I were-”

“Keith,” Lance hissed. He was only making this work. James would’ve been satisfied making fun of him but now he had that look in his eye. The one that said he wasn’t leaving until Lance was hurt.

James held up a placating hand, the smug smirk back in place. “Down, little beast. I’m just playing. Besides, you should know the sort of person you’re ‘bound’ to, right?” 

Here it came. Lance squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to watch Keith’s face turn to disgust like everyone’s did once they found out.

“Fuentes, here, is the charity case the Elders let in because he was too pathetic to turn away. A star cursed failure of the Magerium.”

" _ James _ , just leave us alone.  _ Please _ , not here. Not in front of him." Lance wanted to hide and cry. He was eight years old again and pushed against a wall, legs dangling in the air as he choked. Lance gasped each breath into his lungs thinking it would be the last James would allow.

“What’d you bring tonight, Lance? Did you work  _ rreealllyy  _ hard in the potions room and put together a bottle of apple juice?”

When Keith clutched the bottle a little harder, James’ eyes darted to it. In one swift motion, he pushed Lance, who stumbled backwards and dragged Keith with him by the collar. In that one quick second of lost equilibrium, James snatched the bottle from Keith and held it up with a grin. 

Slipping the potion from its sack, James held it aloft. It sparkled as bright as the moon itself. “I was right. You did make the King a bottle of juice. I’m sure it’s very special and you worked very hard.” 

"Stop! Please be careful." Lance fisted his doublet for something to grab as if that would keep the potion from falling. "It took a whole month. Please, James. Just this once, be nice." 

“Oh, I intend to be.” James shrugged easily and smiled a little wider. “I’m saving you from the embarrassment of handing over your cute little experiment to the King of Belwald and disgracing yourself, the Magerium, and your fancy pet.” 

"Wha-"

“This is what you deserve, star cursed.” James lifted the potion over his head, and Lance had never seen glass look so fragile. He smashed it to the stones. When it shattered, a pool of opalescent white liquid rushed out to coat the moss and make it glow. 

Lance shattered with it, falling to his knees. "No," Lance said, broken and small. Seeing the month of work spilled useless in the grass sapped all the fight from him. He wasn't even angry - he was defeated and worn down. "Why? Why do you always have to be this way? What did I ever do to you?" Tears fell in hot trails down Lance’s cheeks. He didn’t try to stop them. It was over, Keith knew now, knew how pathetic he really was. 

“People like you shouldn’t be in the Magerium.” James’ voice was toneless. He toed at the remnants of the bottle in disgust. “It’s a disgrace, and makes the rest of us look bad.”

"I hate you," Lance whispered. 

Shrugging, James turned to leave. “Good,” he called over his shoulder. “Then I know the feeling is mutual.” 

Keith sat in the grass watching the liquid seep into the ground and turn the dirt a luminescent white. Every few seconds Lance would sniffle, and it would make his fists clench. After a few minutes of sitting in silence, Keith stood so abruptly that it jerked Lance upwards a bit by the shirt collar. 

“Get up,” he commanded, no longer interested in playing demure. 

Wiping his nose with his shirt sleeve, Lance got up. "I guess we should go back. I might have something…" Lance shook his head to hold back a sob. There was nothing he had that could be a gift for a king. 

“Come on.” Keith didn’t give him any time to respond. He just took off running around the side of the palace, forcing Lance to keep pace. 

Lance jerked forward, struggling to run on shaking legs. "Where are we going?" 

He did not receive an answer. When they reached a stone wall far too high to jump, Keith wrapped his arms around Lance’s waist and vaulted off the ground, beating his wings frantically to lift them over before setting them down gently on the other side. 

“It’s the garden,” Keith said, breath a little thready. “I came here a lot as a pup. Quick, grab a pot or something. We need to find the Northern plants and gather as much sand as possible.”

"What are you doing? Didn't you see what just happened? There's no point in gardening. Let's get this over with and go home with our shame. Or my shame, I guess." 

Whirling to face him, Keith narrowed his yellow eyes. “Have I given you any reason to believe I would do anything other than help you? I have an idea.”

Keith had only been by his side for little more than a month. He hadn’t given Lance reason to think much in such a short span of time. "I don’t- I can’t make a new potion." His familiar was so fierce and strong. James was right. It was only a matter of time before they would take Keith, saying there was a mistake. 

“You don’t have to, just please try to trust me.” Keith’s eyes were scanning the dark garden, squinting to find what he was looking for. “There, past the rose bushes. Come on, Master. Find me a bucket and meet me there.” Keith unclipped himself, letting the chain drop to the ground and ran. 

Taking a shuddering breath, Lance turned to find something that would hold sand. A few of the flower pots had holes in them but eventually he found a wax sealed bucket.

By the time Lance caught up, Keith had dug up a sizable pile of sand and was blowing on it to dry it out. “We’re gonna need,” he panted, “water too.”

Lance flicked his wrist as if he was scooping water from the air. Water filled his palm and spilled over onto the ground as if it was a never ending spring. "Like this?" 

“Right.” Keith stopped digging and sat back, staring. 

“Keith…?" 

“Sorry, it’s just...it’s so different. And beautiful.” Realizing what he’d said, Keith’s cheeks colored as he went back to digging. 

Lance pressed his lips together. He wanted to ask what exactly that had meant, but thought better of it. He didn't want to risk him stopping… whatever it was that Keith was trying to do. 

They made it back to the line of mages with minutes to spare. Keith fussed with Lance’s clothing and hair, getting them both back into a presentable state before reclipping his chain with finality. “Now when we get up there, just command me to show the King our gift. And when I look to you, you do your water thing. Okay? Master?” Keith sought his eyes for confirmation. “Everything will be fine.” 

Keith  _ was _ a dragon. It might be okay to trust him. He was obviously more powerful than Lance himself. "Okay." Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly and relaxed his shoulders. "I trust you.”

That made his familiar smile. “I’ll take that, even if it’s a lie. Now. Let’s go meet the King.”

~🍄~

They stood in the light of the portcullis, waiting for their turn to cross the courtyard. On either side, a line of guards held their banners forward to form a sort of ceremonial tunnel. The small, freckled girl in front of them almost tripped as she walked through it, throwing a hand out to catch herself on her enormous timber wolf. As soon as she cleared the last banner, it was their turn. 

Past the courtyard, there were a series of red-carpeted steps, and then finally, they stepped from the darkness into the blaze of gold and light of the palace of Highmount. 

The floor, the swirling columns, even the ceiling - everything was a clean white marble that seemed to almost have its own luminescence. High, thin windows let in an ethereal light, but for the most part, the brightness of the palace was from the blaze of dozens of enchanted crystals, all burning internally with pastel flames. Nobles milled around on either side of the red carpeted runner in elaborate, jewel-toned gowns that likely cost more than the entirety of Lance’s hometown. He was still gaping when they came to the end of the landing.

“Lance Fuentes, Lesser Potions Master,” the herald called out. “And his Familiar, a Northern Red Dragon.”

The entire room full of courtiers turned their heads at that.

Lance held his head high as best he could as he walked down the stairs. The chain hanging from his neck clinked with each step. Keith was a steady warmth behind him, and it was the first time he didn't feel alone in the castle. Even with all eyes and sneers on him, he had an ally. 

_ Wait for the signal, then cast water,  _ Lance repeated. He wasn't sure what ‘casting water’ even meant. Keith seemed to trust him to figure it out in the moment. 

Head still overflowing with thoughts, he stood before the king. A beat too late he bowed. "Sir- King Alfor. My, um," Lance squeezed his eyes shut. He was already ruining everything. 

“Breathe,” Keith whispered. 

Right, he wasn't alone. He took a deep breath and started over, "King Alfor of Belwald, appointed by The Nine and blessed of the Stars. May your reign last longer than the mountains and be more prosperous than the sea. In your honor, my familiar will present your highness with a gift of gratitude." Lance bowed and took a step back for Keith to take over. 

He could see James glaring from the sidelines, his rat whispering in his ear. Lance forced himself to only focus on Keith.

Keith took that as his cue and stepped forward, kneeling on the ground in front of the throne. He bent forward in a bow that had his forehead pressing to the carpet. When he sat back on his heels, he opened the sack of sand they had gathered and poured it on the floor. 

There was a general murmur of scandal and disgust before Keith raised his hands, palms up. A shimmer of heat surrounded the sand and lifted it into the air. In its scorching bubble, Keith manipulated his hands to press until the sand condensed and started to melt into clear liquid glass. 

Raising it high enough for the room to see, Keith tugged and pulled at the air until the glass had formed a crystal clear juniberry blossom - the symbol of the Royal City of Highmount. 

Keith looked over his shoulder at Lance and inclined his head. 

Lance had been just as enchanted as the rest of the room, but luckily Keith's motion snapped him out of it. He raised both hands. If this was a show, then a show they would get. 

Water spiraled around the glass, forming a larger bud. Steam rose from the glass and it was a struggle keeping the shape while most of his magic burned away. Instead of fighting it, Lance let the steam rise, then form clouds and rain back down on the bud.  _ There _ . It self hydrated. 

Twitching his fingers, the water pulled apart as if it were blooming. As it opened, the water split apart and revealed the fully bloomed glass flower. Lance spun his fists in then air and flicked them open, sending the water twisting away as he returned it to the air. The glass was left cool and dry. 

"For your Majesty," Lance said in awe. He bowed low as Keith handed the flower to a servant. 

King Alfor rose from his throne to accept it. He had remained seated for every other presentation, but now he descended the stairs with the flower in hand. 

“Most impressive,” he said, voice deep and pleasant as he smiled. “Thank you for this.”

"I'm happy it pleases your Majesty." 

The King nodded, but his voice was distant when he said, “We will expect great things from you and your familiar.”

"Thank you, Sire." Walking backwards a few paces, he inadvertently pulled Keith along with him. Not only had they successfully presented a gift, but it was well received. More than well, that must have been one of the highest compliments of the night. The  _ king _ had spoken directly to him. Keith was amazing. 

He turned, Keith behind him, and joined the throng. "That was…you are…" Words failed him as he looked at Keith; so powerful, strong, and quick witted. "Thanks," is what he settled on. 

Keith put a hand to his chest and bowed quickly before taking his place at Lance’s side. “Pleased to be of service to you, Master.” 

“No, really.” Lance pressed their shoulders together and held his gaze. “This was all your doing and the credit is going to me, so I want you to know that I appreciate it.”

His familiar clearly did not know what to do with that. He blinked, looking completely flummoxed, before nodding and offering a very small smile. “Of course. And I meant what I said, too. I  _ am  _ pleased to be of service. At least I was finally useful.” 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit for your skills,” Lance said, pausing on  _ skills _ and brushing away his own lack of power. “Look how well you cap bottles now, you’re even faster than me.”

Keith shook his head and the ribbon in his hair caught the light. Still, he didn’t seem offended. “I think I’m better suited for melting the wax, but again, thank you.”

Lance nudged him and snorted. “You are very good at melting wax.”

Keith nudged him right back. “Why, I learned from the best.”

They settled into a comfortable silence as they watched the rest of the gifts being presented. It was nice to sit back and not have to worry about James or a gift. Keith didn’t seem to hate him after that and Lance let himself relax. They both ooh’d and aah’d at the different presents, things ranging from a skein of wool that emitted its own heat to a mirror that could project a map of the entire kingdom into the air, occasionally nudging each other and giggling quietly at the other’s commentary. 

When the last Magi and Familiar stepped down, low violins filled the air and the orchestra played the anthem of Highmount. The king took his seat next to Shiro and the Elders and the Magi broke off into groups. Lance stuck with Keith, content to stay by himself. He didn’t have any friends anyway. After the somber melody, drums joined the orchestra and the beat picked up. The party was officially started. Magi and Familiars filled the floor for the Dance of the First Bond.

Lance grabbed Keith’s hand. “Let’s dance. We earned it.”

“What?” Keith blurted, stumbling forward by a step. “You - with me?”

“Who else?” The music was upbeat, exhilarating, and Lance was feeling light and giddy with the turn the evening had taken. “It’s practically tradition. Look, even Brigitte is dancing with her octopus.” They turned to watch Brigitte flailing around as her octopus wiggled six of its eight tentacles in the air.

“So she is.” Keith peered through the crowd. “How is that possible?”

Lance grinned and pulled Keith to the center of the dance floor. “Tentacles are strong.”

Keith raised his hands to Lance’s waist, but balked just before touching him. Instead, he rested them lightly on his Master’s shoulders and finally gave him a trepidatious smile. “Alright, alright. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

Pulling Keith close, Lance giggled. “Do you have skills that you didn’t list in your repertoire?"

“Maybe,” Keith said, playfully wagging his eyebrows. “Are you about to dazzle me with some of yours?” 

Lance did a little jig, one of the ones they taught during court etiquette lessons. It wasn't that complicated, but it was his favorite. Keith bounced with him, pulled along since he hadn't let go. "Bet that's pretty dazzling."

Now Keith was the one giggling, his tail all but wagging behind him as they moved. He slid his arm more securely around Lance’s shoulder and neck as they moved, relaxing into the closeness. “Consider me dazzled. Do another. Something with a spin.”

With a gleam in his eye, Lance unclipped the chain and stuffed it into Keith’s doublet. "Oh, you want to spin do you?" Lucky for Keith, Highmount had an entire complicated circle dance. It would look silly with no one else, but since some people's partners were literal cats, there went many rules for this round. 

"Hang on," Lance said, grabbing one of Keith's hands. 

“To wh-ah!”

Lance pushed his shoulder, spinning him out and pulling him back. Instead of colliding, he sidestepped so that Keith twirled around behind him. Lance guided him back so that they were face to face and clasped their arms together. Running in a circle, they laughed as the room blurred around them. The people around them blended with the walls and all Lance could focus on was Keith's smiling face. 

He’d never seen anything beyond a cheeky sort of grin or a soft, quiet smile on his dragon, this was the first time he’d seen unrestrained joy. It flushed his nose and cheeks and made the gold of his eyes all the more prominent. He was so breathless with laughter that his voice had cracked into near-silence, so that every other syllable faded when he said, “Okay, alright, mercy! Have mercy, m’gonna fall!”

Their stop wasn't graceful, but they didn't hit anyone so it was good enough. They stood leaning against each other, panting. The world continued to tilt while they clung to each other for balance. 

"How's," Lance said, gulping a breath, "that for a spin, huh?" 

The especially narrow points of Keith’s canine teeth were showing from the wide grin he was giving. “So you’ll spin me around until I’m about to throw up, but you can’t handle a little flying?” 

“There’s a big difference between my feet being on the ground and the ground being thousands of feet below me.” 

The drums muted and the music lengthened into a waltz. Familiars stepped back as the Magi around them began to pair off. Lance realised he was practically pressed against Keith as the world stopped spinning. He coughed and stepped back.

Keith seemed to become aware of his own body at around the same time and crossed his arms. Though he cast his gaze to the floor, he was still half-smiling. “Ah. Thank you. Master. For the - um. For the dance.” 

_ Cute _ , Lance thought and it surprised him. He shoved that feeling down and locked it tight in horror. This was his  _ Familiar _ . “Yes, um, it definitely wouldn’t have been that fun with a toad.”

“Excuse me.” A young sorceress with two black cloud-like pigtails and a chameleon on her shoulder tapped Lance to get his attention. When he turned, she smiled with lips and dark eyes painted midnight blue. “Do you think I might borrow your Familiar for a dance? You two seemed to be having so much fun, and I’m afraid Fynlinn,” she gestured to her chameleon, who flicked one eye at Lance while the other looked up at his Mistress, “doesn’t do much dancing.” 

"You want to dance with… him?" Sure, Keith was no toad, and probably a better dancer than a chameleon, but to dance with someone else’s Familiar? Especially after the Dance of the First Bond was over, was strange at best and something punishable by the Mageirum at worse. He focused behind her on the Elders near the throne. 

Keith looked deeply confused and more than a little uncomfortable. “Why not dance with my Master?”

The girl smirked and jerked her thumb behind her as another girl joined her, this one with looping brown plaits and a shy smile just for Lance. “Because my friend here has had her heart set on a dance with your Master for about the last five years.” 

Said friend looked up at Lance hopefully through long lashes. “Do you remember me? I’m Holly, we were partners in Etiquette when we were younger.” 

No, Lance did not remember. "Yes, of course." He looked at Keith for guidance, remembered that he was in charge, and stood straighter. "I think that would be fine, then." Dragons were, after all, sentient and probably fell outside the normal rules of conduct. Lance held out his arm. 

“Really?” Holly broke into a smile and latched onto Lance, jostling the little white ermine hanging around her neck. It chittered in annoyance before shuffling back down. 

Keith pouted at Lance before his view was blocked by the black-haired girl offering her arm to him. With a last glance at his Master, Keith took it and allowed her to lead him to the dance floor. 

Even as Holly pulled him away so they could slot into the waltz, his eyes were on Keith, who was bowing formally to his new dance partner. The strange feeling he'd locked tight inside wiggled as Keith's arms wrapped around her waist. 

“Are you having a good time?” Holly asked, looping her arms around Lance’s neck and pressing a little closer. 

Now Keith was holding her hand. He didn't seem that confident in dancing, maybe Lance should give him lessons. "Hm?" he asked, her question finally processing. "Yes, the ball is…confusing." 

Holly frowned. “Um…”

Keith's face scrunched and he caught Lance's eye before turning away. Lance failed at calming his thundering heart. Keith's eyes were intense even this far away. If only there was someone he could ask about these confusing feelings. "I mean nice, I said nice, didn't I?" 

She giggled and slid even closer, looking up at him with a dreamy smile. “You haven’t changed much at all. You used to stumble over your words about as often as your feet. It’s very endearing.” 

"Thanks." Lance pulled his eyes away from Keith and stared down at her. She remembered so much more about him than he did about her. The dance lessons were mostly random partners, but no one ever liked to be his so he supposed Holly might have been the only one he'd ever danced with, he just couldn't place her. He was pretty sure the women had never talked to him before this day.

"You dance well, you always have," Lance said, musing that none of his lessons had been particularly awful. 

Holly raised an eyebrow, but she was smiling. “It’s very kind of you to lie. I stepped on your toes at least three times.” 

"A few stubbed toes are to be expected when learning." Lance returned the smile as best he could and turned them so that he could watch Keith easier. 

She giggled, as if he’d told a marvelous joke. “I’ve been looking forward to dancing with you ever since then. And at the Summoning, and just now, with your gift…” Her voice dropped a little, as did her lashes. “I wouldn’t mind getting...reacquainted sometime.”

The woman with her chameleon familiar leaned in to whisper into Keith's ear. Lance watched his mouth open in a small o as his thick eyebrow drew over his eyes. He wished he could hear what they were talking about.

"Oh?" Lance couldn't keep up this conversation for much longer. Keith's face turned away and the box holding Lance's feelings jiggled again. He pushed Holly back. "Oh, oh no. I'm very busy. So many potions and um, potions, so." 

The music faded and the song changed. Lance bowed. "Excuse me Magi, I must go collect my familiar.”

Holly didn’t stop him. She just stepped back and rubbed one arm, looking at the floor. “Of course.”

Lance worked his way through the crowd to where Keith stood, now alone. “How was your first dance?”

Keith looked...troubled. His brows knitted together as he frowned at nothing in particular. “Strange. She asked a lot of questions. Unusual questions.” He reached up to toy with his collar, tugging at the loop as if it was a nervous habit. 

“Mine just talked about dancing,  _ while  _ we were dancing. At least questions are interesting.” This was silly, Keith was his familiar, he didn’t need to be upset about him dancing with someone else. “What did she ask about?”

Keith’s golden eyes lifted to him. “She asked how often we were together. If you ever let me out of your sight. If I was enjoying my life at the Magerium. And, um. Some other things.”

“Do you think she was a plant?” Lance asked, quirking his head to look at Keith. “To make sure we weren't, you know.” Heat warmed his cheeks and he looked back at the floor.

“Weren’t what?” Keith blinked. “Causing trouble? Not getting along?”

“No. She was checking if we were...straying from the path. Turning away from the Magerium. Lighting our own way.”

“How could we?” Keith scoffed, crossing his arms and jutting his hip out. “We never leave. We never even go beyond the forest. Where else would we go?” 

Lance sighed. Apparently euphemisms didn’t work on dragons. “Never mind. I think she was checking on us, though. You didn’t tell her anything bad, right?”

Keith looked as if he didn’t know whether to be concerned or offended. “I certainly don’t think so. I said that yes, I was happy, that we’re always together, and that the rest was not mine to comment on and she’d have to ask my Master.” 

"That's good, I think. You probably passed whatever test the Magerium was conducting." He rubbed his temples and leaned against the wall. "We haven't broken any rules and we  _ won't _ break any. We keep our heads down and do what they say." 

Still puzzled, Keith reached a hesitant hand forward to place on Lance’s shoulder. “...Alright? Did we intend to do otherwise?” 

Shrugging Keith off, Lance sighed, "No, never." 

Keith’s consternation soured into hurt before it settled back into impassivity. “Very well.” He reached for the chain, still stuffed into his doublet, and handed the other end back to Lance. “Here. We’re done dancing. You ought to put my chain back on.” 

_ Keep your head down, _ Lance advised himself, but his stomach turned at the thought of having to tether Keith up. “No, it should be fine to leave it off. No one will notice.”

“Have I displeased you?” Keith’s voice was edging into that frosty territory that meant he was skirting the line between very annoyed and near-combustible. He held the chain a little closer to Lance’s face in defiance. 

Lance pushed it away. “I said no. Don’t make me do something I can’t.”

“ _ Can’t?”  _ Keith hissed, baring his sharp teeth in a sneer. “Can’t  _ what _ ? Tell me what I’ve done wrong, because I really can’t figure it out. Wasn’t I useful tonight? Haven’t I been studying every stupid plant in that stupid book?” 

Nausea pushed its way to his stomach as the ballroom seemed to fill with eyes staring at them. This was  _ not _ keeping his head down. “That’s not the point. This-” He gestured to the chain. “-and that are different. I don’t like to use my status, Keith. Don’t make me.”

“Well  _ that’s  _ certainly true. Just say it, get it over with. Since the  _ moment  _ you summoned me, you’ve done nothing but remind me how much you wish I’d been a TOAD!”

Lance stumbled back as if the words had punched him. It wasn’t true, not like that. Keith made it sound like he was less than some bog toad when it was the opposite. Lance  _ deserved _ even less than a toad, he didn’t deserve Keith, and every day the disparity became clearer. “You’re wrong,” he whispered to the ground.

“ _ How _ ? Because from where I’m standing-“

“Well, if it isn’t the gentlemen of the hour,” James cut in smoothly, leaning his forearm casually against the wall next to Keith. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

"James. Haven't you done enough already." Lance turned with all the frustration and anger he had at Keith and leveled it on James. 

James held up his hands placatingly even as his rat dashed down his arm to chitter and scold Lance. “Whoa, I just came to congratulate you on your stunning performance. The whole room is talking about it - how no one has seen the King look so soft since the Crown Princess died. You really made quite the name for yourselves tonight.”

Keith was equally riled up, and turned the full force of his bared teeth and golden eyes on James. “Back off, human,” he growled, in a voice that was distinctly otherworldly and guttural. 

The only sign that James was threatened was the twitch of his eyebrow. “Call off your guard dog, Fuentes.” 

Lance crossed his arms. "Why should I? He's free to do what he wants and if that means growl at you, I think you deserve it." 

“Look, I’m sorry.” James kept his hands up in surrender. “I obviously underestimated you and I came to apologize. And to ask you to dance,” he said, nodding at Lance. 

"Dance?" Lance stared at James, uncomprehending. "I-" What did he have up his sleeve? “No.” He turned away. How dare he come up after shattering his gift, after years of bulling, after turning the whole Mageirum and the Elders against Lance; how dare he ask him to dance. “Not on my life.”

A mistake. There was never saying no to James. Lance choked as the air around him dissipated. 

“Watch your words, Fuentes.”

From beside him, Keith  _ growled.  _

Lance gasped as air returned and he coughed, tears stinging his eyes. "Fine,” he gave in, voice raspy. “One dance and then you leave both of us alone for the rest of the night." 

With a gallant bow, James took his hand and led him away from the wall. 

Keith made a sound that could have been the beginning of his name, but it was lost in the strange gurgling sound of a language Lance didn’t recognize. Whatever he meant to say, James had already whisked Lance away. 

Without any discussion, James settled Lance’s hands so that James, of course, was leading. They picked up after a count of three and swept into the ring of people, most in cobalt blue, waltzing across the dance floor. 

“It’s magnificent,” James said as he twirled Lance out and back with practiced grace.

"I guess." Lance took a peek at Keith who was watching them intently from the wall. His mind was still on the argument they hadn't finished. When their eyes met, Lance turned back to James and then down at their feet. 

“I meant your dragon. It isn’t every day that you get to watch raw magic wielded in its purest form.” He lifted Lance, spun them both, and placed him back down. “You’ve got to be proud.” 

"Keith isn't an  _ it _ ." Lance glared, head still ducked. "Tell me the truth. Why did you really want to dance?" 

Somehow, James managed to shrug while still leading them forward, gliding past the other couples. “I just thought you might need to be reminded that without your beast, you’re very much nothing. Don’t let tonight go to your head.” 

Lance bit his lip to keep from saying anything. He just had to survive this and then he could slip away back to the dorm. 

“Come on, I have some friends who are dying to speak to you.” 

The controlling hand on Lance’s back did not leave any room for discussion as James steered them to the refreshment table. Lance searched for Keith, but he was gone. 

A group of four other new mages watched them approach. Two of them - twins - were Frost mages who had never so much as looked at Lance. Another was a Spellweaver from the original Elder’s line, and the last was the daughter of the richest gem merchant in Belwald who had a talent for enchanting weaponry. It was the latter who smiled up at Lance and raised a hand. 

“Look who it is, everyone - King Alfor’s special favorite!” She held her hand forward for Lance to take. “Good evening.”

"Uh, evening." He took her hand. It was small and warm and limp. Bending, he pressed it to his forehead. There was no way he was pressing his lips to her bejeweled hand. Who knew what kind of cruel curses lay inside them.

Her smirk was cool as she looked down at him. 

“How ever did you come up with the idea for your gift?” One of the twins - the male, with white-blonde hair and a thin nose - tilted his head as he regarded Lance. “It was ingenious.” 

A quick glance at James sent his heart pounding. James was sneering at him as he dug his nails into Lance’s lower back. 

“It was Keith’s idea. After I broke my original gift. He came up with it.”

“Ah,” the first girl said with a knowing eyebrow raise. “That’s quite resourceful. And lucky.” 

She closed the distance between them and took Lance by the shoulders as James pushed him forward. “And your pet is  _ oh  _ so loyal. Look at him watching you, but you didn’t give him permission to follow.”

She turned him around to face the wall. Keith had moved a few paces from where Lance had left him, following Lance’s every move with sharp yellow eyes but coming no closer.

“Tell me,” she all but purred in his ear. “What did you do to summon such a grand familiar?” 

Warning bells were screaming at him. This was worse than dangerous, they were going to punish him for summoning Keith and he had no power to stop them. Lance pulled away and bowed slightly. “You’re right, I left him alone. I should get back.”  _ Run _ , his mind screamed at him, but he couldn’t make a scene.  _ Head low, do what they say. _ James grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward. 

“Why leave so soon? The party just started and your familiar is fine without you. Stay.”

“Yes,” the girl said, taking a sip of her wine. “Stay and play with us. We’re having so much fun.”

“Aww, the pet’s getting his fur ruffled.” The female twin giggled, eyeing Keith as she drew an ice-coated finger down Lance’s back. 

“Leave Keith out of this.”

“Come on,  _ Lesser  _ Mage, just tell us how you did it.” 

“There’s nothing to tell you. It just happened.” Lance tried to pull away but the male twin froze him in place - literally. 

“Oh, Lance,” James sighed sympathetically. “You should have just told us.” 

He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. He didn’t need to move to do what came next. 

Lance was looking at James and his little rat, and then he was flying through the air. His stomach rose to his throat as he flew. Trying desperately to turn back time with will-power alone, he flailed in the air. Unfortunately, growing up with James the feeling of dangling in the air was all too familiar. 

When he crashed down, it was directly into the dessert table - specifically the enormous ten-tiered cake. Plates, croquembouche, and petit fours all went flying, spilling into the dance floor. Violens scratched a last note as dancing pairs scattered to avoid the carnage. The room was silent save for the last ringing of a plate coming to rest.

Everyone seemed to have avoided the pastry disaster- all but one- whom Lance landed directly on top of, and whose outraged shout was unmistakable. 

Lance struggled to move but he was still frozen solid; he couldn’t even open his mouth to apologize. He was helped by the person under him who shoved him off and into more confections. 

“Lesser Potions Master Fuentes,” Elder Greeve said, his voice a low warning.

He didn’t get much further. Keith, half-transformed and tore across the ballroom on all fours, launching himself at James and his posse. His roar was primal and made the windows shake. 

Greeve turned at the sound to stare wide-eyed at Keith. Party goers who were once gawking now scrambled to give Keith a wide berth. James and company also tried to run, but were stopped by a low growl and a wave of heat. The air glistened with it and Lance felt the ice melt from his bones. “Keith!” he yelled, trying to stop him, but was drowned out by another roar.

The twins together were enough to repel Keith with a shield of ice, but not before he’d scratched the Rune mage across the face, bit hard into James’ arm, and given all of them a few sizable burns. It was a total of perhaps five seconds, but that was all Keith needed to make what happened to anyone who assaulted his Master abundantly clear.

"Keith, stop!" Lance threw himself in front of the next attack, a mushroom already forming on his forearm like a shield. Keith's claws sunk through it, popping it. Water burst out, splashing everyone in the vicinity. Whether it was the water or Lance’s presence that stopped Keith in his tracks, he wasn't sure. 

Keith was all fire and anger above him as he panted hot breath. 

Lance closed his eyes and dropped his arms to his side. "Take me home," was all he said. 

The entire congregation was silent, frozen by awe instead of magic. All except for Greeve, who lay there spluttering, staggering to his feet and lecturing to an audience who was in no way listening. 

Keith had already grabbed Lance by the wrist and pulled him close, trapping him to his chest as he took off. He flapped his wings as he ran, skittering along the ballroom floor until he lifted and shot out of the palace. 

They flew in silence, and Keith still didn’t seem to know what to do even after he set Lance gently down outside the dormitory. He flapped his wings a few times, chest still heaving with adrenaline and anger. 

Lance was covered from head to toe in sticky sweet. Some of it was streaked down Keith's front from the flight. 

"You shouldn't have done that. Now you'll be in trouble too." Lance's voice had no strength to it. Instead, he sounded tired and uncaring. 

“They should only punish me,” Keith insisted. “I could  _ smell  _ how - they were - I  _ saw  _ that little pus boil mutter his incantation and -" 

Lance held up his hand. "I need a bath." He turned on his heel, making his way to their small room. 

Keith trotted after him, still jittery with unspent energy. “I can heat the water.” 

Lance nodded but didn't stop until they’d reached the room. Then he sat directly in the wooden tub, clothes and all. Curling into a ball and squeezing his knees, he waited for Keith to fill it. 

It didn’t take him long. He heated the water even as he carried the buckets so that Lance would at least be warm in the time it took to fill. When he finally got it up to chest height, Keith sank to his knees beside the tub and waited for his Master to speak. 

"I'm sorry." Eyes dry and cheeks scarlet, Lance looked at Keith over his folded arms. "I guess you know, now." 

Seeing that Lance clearly wasn’t going to do it for himself, Keith busied his hands with untangling the laces of the collar and formal doublet Lance was still wearing. “Know what?” 

Lance batted his hands out of the way. "Don't." He took a shuddering breath. "Don't make me say it." Bits of cake and frosting floated in the water. There was even a whole, slightly smashed, cream puff. 

Fiercely, Keith caught his hands and shook him to get his attention. “I know,” he said, all tense and restrained anger, “that there are some foul, poor excuses for mages who needed their faces scorched. Who talk about others to make themselves feel bigger. Who have powerful magic and think that gives them the right to act like maggots.” 

Ignoring Lance’s orders, Keith went back to tangling with his clothes. “And I wish you hadn’t stopped me.” 

"It's not our place to punish them." Lance sighed and slipped further into the tub, causing Keith's hands to follow him into the water. "This has been going on longer than you, you should stay out of it."

“Why?” Giving up on wrestling Lance out, Keith sat back and gripped the edge of the tub. The water began to steam. “It affects me now, too. How can you just sit there and let them treat you that way? You think  _ I’m _ going to sit there and let anyone say anything bad about  _ my  _ Master? I can’t. I refuse. I’ll obey any order you give me except that one.” 

"It's just going to make it worse." Lance faced him, worry lining his eyes. "I'm going to have to fight to make sure they don't muzzle you or something. Don't you get it? They don't see you as a person, they see you as an animal. And now they think I can't control you." 

Keith’s nostrils flared as he breathed, frowning at the grey bathwater. “Any familiar is entitled to come to their Master’s aid. That’s just common knowledge.” 

"James wasn't a threat and you singed one of the head mages. No one is going to think Elder Greeve was a threat." 

“You were so uncomfortable.” It was a half-whine, half-protest. “You’re really ordering me to just...let that happen?” 

"It’s all I can do." Lance shrugged. He picked at the frosting, watching it dissolve in the water. "But, the look on James' face was priceless. I've been wanting to see him put in his place for as long as I can remember." 

Keith sat back on his heels. He was quiet for a moment as he thought. 

“It really has made your life difficult, hasn’t it.” It wasn’t really a question. “Summoning me.” 

Lance shook his head. "It's always been like this. Before, I would be sitting in an empty tub feeling bad for myself. The only difference is now you get to witness it and I get actual hot water." He sat up a little as he calmed down. "After all these years, they deserve to be a bit burned. I'm not sure I would have stopped you if it was just us and James." 

“I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to leave them all so disfigured they’d never forget that night and anyone who saw them would remember how they looked when they pissed themselves in front of the king, faces melting and -“ Keith sucked in a breath and blew out his cheeks. “Uh. Well. I mean.”

Lance snorted. “That’s probably the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said.” He poked Keith’s cheek with a pruning finger causing the water to lap at the wooden tub with gentle waves. “Thanks.” 

Keith colored a little and gave him a guilty grin. “I would say ‘anytime’ but you already forbade it.”

“Well,” Lance said, holding the word out as if he were thinking about it. “If something happened to him away from the eyes of the elders, then did it really happen?”

The grin widened. “No, Master.” 

“It’s nice.” He leaned his head against the rim of the tub and swiveled to look at Keith. “Not being alone. Having someone on my side. Especially someone as scary as you.”

Keith nodded. “Nice not to be alone in general.” 

“Now I feel silly in my clothes,” Lance chuckled. “I guess taking a bath while doing laundry isn’t as efficient as I thought.” He pulled his doublet off and handed it over. “Maybe we will make a good team.”

With Lance’s soggy doublet in hand, Keith stilled. He glanced up and to the side, his smile almost imperceptible in profile. “Yeah?” 

“After you get over your fear of spiders.”

The doublet landed on Lance’s head with a wet slap. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to NASA is a Satanic Cult for being the best beta!
> 
> Sail: Autumn is in Disneyland, please feel free to message them and tell them next time to bring me :(((
> 
> holy shit that was a long one... I tried to find a place to break to add to ch 5 but... nope. you just get 11k for this chapter ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Thank you to everyone commenting and hitting that kudos button i love you all! Okay, Autumn is the fluffy one, but i'm trying my best, just know that we're both overwhelmed by your love and support <3
> 
> twitter n'shit: [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you read this? [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

~🍄~

10 Years ago, Winter

They were not walking their usual route. 

Adam had been taking Keith out for fresh air almost daily since he was old enough to understand the discretion necessary for such an outing. Usually, they wound down through the forest and circled back to the castle without ever going too deep into the thick of it. Lately, however, Keith had insisted on returning to the frog pond ever since he’d found the crying boy and had managed to cheer him up with a small plague of amphibians. After months of not seeing him again, today was the first time Keith had evidently given up and opted for a different route instead. 

Adam didn't mind; the palace garden had high walls and the gardener was a nice old man who heard better than he could see. That didn't speak well for either of those senses but it did make it easy for Keith to play there without fear of being discovered. 

There was frost on what was left of the garden plants. Most of them were bare, twiggy bushes that were hibernating until spring, but a few of the waxy-leafed and heartier shrubs were in full bloom. They spilled over with red and white berries or frostflowers that sparkled in the winter sun like glass. 

Speaking of which…

Keith had scampered over to the Northern plants and was currently occupied with digging up as much sand as he could manage. The kindly, mostly-blind gardener assumed they had an infestation of wickedly clever moles that kept displacing his sand, so he continued to fill in whatever Keith dug up every time they came. He was bundled up in more cloaks than necessary, no matter how many times Adam admonished Shiro, which made his digging clumsy. When he finally had a sizable pile, he grinned up at Adam with snow melting on his dark lashes. 

“What’d’you want me to make today, Damdam?”

Adam squatted down, tucking his cloak under his knees so it wouldn't get wet. "How about a tree for me to live in?" 

Keith scrunched his face up. “I don’t think I have enough sand. You’re really heavy.” 

"It's pretend,” Adam chuckled. “Make a small one you'd think I like and I can pretend to sleep in it." Keith was a very literal child who had never quite gotten the hang of playing when it didn’t involve roughhousing of some kind. He would try to make a full sized tree if he had enough sand, and that made Adam want to scoop him up and cover him in kisses. 

“Oh.” Keith shrugged one shoulder and held his hands over the pile of sand. With an expression of fierce concentration, he wrapped the sand in an invisible sphere of heated air and lifted it up to eye level. 

“Okay, now don’t talk,” Keith commanded. “This takes a lot of focus and I can’t have you distracting me.” 

"Right. Okay." Adam stood and took a good couple steps back. Whenever Keith played with glass, Adam or Shiro tended to get a little burnt, and he was determined for it to not happen this time. 

He watched as Keith huffed fire into the sand until it glowed red hot. As it began to melt, Adam wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. 

"These are the frostflowers I was telling you about," the gardener's loud voice echoed against the brick walls. "They'll be perfect for that alchemy assignment." 

Startled, Keith’s heat sphere popped and the molten glass fell to the ground, hissing as it cooled. He looked around, clear irritation making his nostrils smoke. 

Adam stepped in front of him, blocking Keith from any prying eyes. The residual heat was like stepping into the Burning Wastes all over again, and he blinked through the sweat wetting his lashes.

"What's this one?" a curious, soft voice asked. 

That smell. It was the frog boy.

Immediately, Adam turned to Keith to make sure he hadn't run to the boy he'd been obsessed about for months. 

Keith was actively sniffing the air. He had definitely noticed. 

“Keith,” Adam said warningly, but the look Keith sent him was so forlorn and desperate that Adam knew this was going to be a battle he couldn’t win - mostly against himself. He sighed and motioned vaguely at Keith. 

“Very well. Let me see your glamour.” 

Keith brightened like a lantern at the festival of Nelare. With a proud grin, he shivered head to toe, his horns and wings disappearing as Adam watched. He hadn’t managed the claws yet, but with the cloaks covering his feet, it simply seemed as if he were wearing red gloves. 

“Alright. Stay close to me.”

Nodding obediently, Keith crept forward toward the sound of the voice. 

They wove between the frostbitten plants and the snowdrifts that melted under Keith's feet. Adam stopped once they'd rounded the corner. The gardener stood staring down at a small boy in the white robes of the Magerium and a thin cloak hanging over his shivering shoulders. It was definitely the boy from the pond. 

He was squatted down, tawny hair heavy with snowflakes. There had to be a way to get this boy that their son had taken an interest in to become Keith's playmate. He'd talk to Shiro about it. It wasn't right that Keith had no one his own age to play with. Plus, the boy seemed harmless and, from what he’d seen last time, equally in need of a friend.

"I'm only allowed to use water magic, why would I use a frostflower?" The boy asked the gardener, face pinched. 

“Only allowed?” The old man pulled a face before he said, “Oh, meaning it’s all you can do. Well, lots of things. In fact…”

Keith had crept too close for Adam’s liking. He let a firm hand fall on Keith’s shoulder. The boy looked up at him and Adam shook his head. 

"Anyone can do potions, no matter what type of magic Hoile blessed them with. It doesn't matter what property the plant holds." The gardener knelt down so that he was eye level with the boy. "In fact, creating potions is like being able to control all elements inside a single bottle. It's powerful magic." 

"All of them? Isn't that…wrong?" 

"Bottles are not people." The gardener plucked the frostflower and held it out to the boy, who took it reverently. "With potions, even a water mage can bottle snow." 

The tiny water mage sat there thinking that over. “Why do bottles get to have more than us?”

The gardener laughed. “Out of the mouth of babes. Holie bless you.”

“I’m not a baby. I’m ten now.” Fierce blue eyes glared up at the gardener. This child had about as much tenacity as Keith. 

“Hush hush, now. Peace. All wee ones are babes to me at my age. Take no offense.”

The pond-boy frowned, but nodded.

“That’s a good lad. Why don’t you make yourself useful and help an old man till these frostflowers, it’s the least you can do for my help.”

Adam looked down at his ward. Keith had planted his bottom on the snowy ground, causing a puddle to melt all around him. He was listening to the gardener almost as attentively as the pond-boy. Whether he realized it or not, Keith was smiling.

Adam knelt down and placed a hand on Keith's back to get his attention. Whispering, he said, "Do you want to leave him a present?" 

Keith blinked up at him, eyes widening. “How? Am I allowed? Won’t Shiro be angry with me?” 

_ What Shiro doesn't know can't hurt him _ , Adam thought. To Keith he said, "If he doesn't see you, he won't know it was you and then there's nothing to be angry about." 

Looking positively devilish with secret glee, Keith doubled back the few feet to retrieve his now-cold glass lump. He held it awkwardly in his palms as he began to heat it once more. 

“What should I make?” Keith’s lip poked out just a touch as he looked at his hands. “I’m not very good at the art part.” 

Adam thought seriously about that. Something that would let the boy know that it was Keith without knowing who Keith was. "Why not a bog toad? A glass one that can't die and can be his friend in your place." 

That last sentence dimmed some of the light behind Keith’s eyes, and Adam inwardly cursed his choice of words even if they had been necessary. Still, Keith seemed to approve of his suggestion, and his tongue peeked out from between his lips as he concentrated. 

Ultimately, the shape he ended with was, if not the most polished piece of sculpture, at least recognizable as a toad. As an afterthought, Keith spread his palm to provide the toad with a lily pad to squat upon before looking at up Adam for his approval. 

Adam appraised it with a small smile. Keith had gotten much better with his temperature manipulation. "I like it. Do you want to give it to him? You'll have to put it in a place he can find it and know it's his." 

“Like...crawl in his window?”

"No!" Adam said too loud and slapped a hand over his mouth. Clearing his throat and ignoring Keith's wide eyes, he tried to compose himself. "I meant on the ground where he would see it. Please don't crawl into anyone's house without being invited, Keith." 

“Well if he sees it on the ground, how will he know it’s for him?” Keith argued back. 

Adam was a bit stumped. He’d assumed Keith would choose to place it on the ground. He hadn't expected any pushback, and, to be fair, that was his own shortcoming. With Keith, there was always pushback. 

"What about this?" Adam placed his hand on the soft soil and formed a rectangle the size of a scrap of parchment. Pressing his finger into the soft earth, he wrote,  _ 'For the little water mage.'  _

Keith’s tongue flicked out as he read the words before his eyes crinkled into a smile. 

"Turn it into pottery, just like Shiro's mug," Adam said, backing up. 

Keith nodded, then began to gently exhale on the clay. He had figured out a short while ago that when it came to pottery, the difference between an open-mouthed exhale and a pointed blow could mean the difference between firing clay and destroying the pot and all the ground surrounding it. When it was baked to his satisfaction, he looked up at Adam with his large golden eyes. 

“Do you think he will like it?”

"I'm sure he will." Adam used his cloak to place the plaque on the frog sculpture. "Let's leave this by the garden exit, alright? Then we'll meet Shiro for dinner. He said he was going to bring you something from the library today." 

That perked Keith up a bit, even as he kept glancing over his shoulder towards where the boy was still engrossed in hushed conversation with the gardener. 

Once they reached the exit, Keith took his time arranging his gift to his satisfaction before sitting back on his heels and looking at it silently. Adam allowed him room to think. When Keith stood and looked at him, it was with a sad, wistful expression that looked woefully out of place on one so small. 

“I wonder if he would even like me,” Keith said to the winter air. 

"It doesn't help your heart to ponder on who does or does not like you." Adam scooped Keith into his arms and held him on his hip. "It's much better to ponder on those who already love you. Remember that no matter what, you always have me and Shiro." 

Keith rested his head against Adam’s shoulder, fisting the fabric of his cloak. “I know.” He didn’t sound terribly soothed, but he did seem resigned. 

Adam sighed and hugged Keith close. It kept his heart from shattering at the thought of Keith's loneliness. As soon as he was tucked into bed, Adam would talk to Shiro about finding a playmate for Keith that would be safe for the whole family. Their lives were solitary enough as they were by the Magerium’s necessity. 

He would not let them take Keith’s happiness as well. 

~🍄~

Spring

Keith made tea while Lance took a real bath. His clothes were drying beside the fireplace in a tidy row where Keith had spent time scrubbing out frosting and pastries. By the time the sweet aroma of steeping leaves filled the room, Lance was dried and dressed in his night things. He took the cup from Keith and let the steam relax his face. “You weren't lying about being good in the kitchen.”

Keith snorted over his own cup, accidentally setting it boiling. “Well, it’s hard to botch tea. But thank you. Do you like it strong? Sweet?”

“Exactly like this. I wonder if dragon fire brings out a different flavor? We should try other teas and experiment.” The glint in Lance’s eye was the same one he got when suggesting new ingredients for tried and true potions. It usually ended with something exploding or someone having too many ears afterward.

That got him an eye roll with no real malice behind it. “Riveting,” Keith teased. “Can’t wait.” 

Lance put his cup down. "I don't think I thanked you properly for what you did."

Keith’s tongue sucked back in with a wet little slurp from where he’d been testing the flavor of his tea. “Huh? I thought it wasn’t - I mean, I thought you were upset at me.”

"You shouldn't have, that's true. We're going to get into a lot of trouble. But," Lance said, staring into his cup. The reflection of his face rippled in the tea. "Personally, as Lance Fuentes d’Metrella who's been bullied by James for a long time, thank you." 

His dragon’s expression softened just a touch. “Well. As Keith the dragon d’This Same Fucking Castle, you’re welcome. That pus boil of a Magi deserved way more than I had a chance to give him.” 

Lance rested his head on his fist and tried not to let himself imagine all the wonderfully torturous ways a dragon could mangle James. It was pointless to daydream about being saved from his plight. It would never happen. Keith would have to deal with Lance's bullying in the same way he did. 

For an entirely new reason, Lance wished he hadn't been the one to summon Keith. He'd condemned a High Magic dragon to a life of pity and pain. This was all his fault. 

“Hey.” 

Keith’s hand was warm and gentle on his knee, despite the glitter of his claws. “Where did you go?” 

"Oh, sorry. I just." Lance blinked at Keith. The Northern Red Dragon, thought extinct, and the only High Magic familiar in the world. The dragon who now shared his fate and whom he had no power to protect. 

"Are you lonely?" he asked softly, staring at the space between them, eyes unfocused. 

Dark brows furrowed together as Keith frowned at him. “Lonely?” His face relaxed back into a little smile as he gazed up at his Master. “No. Not really. Not anymore.” 

"Are you happy?" Lance asked, words moving too fast and stumbling into each other, as if he regretted asking and was trying to shove them back into his mouth. 

Keith seemed to consider that for a moment. He stared down at the stone floor, tracing the patterns between them with his eyes. “I think so,” he said at length. “But you’re not. And when a Master isn’t happy, it’s impossible for the familiar to be.” 

Lance shrunk into himself. Keith was right. "I'm sorry. I just." 

He just what? There was no way to fix this. 

Keith's hand was still warm on his knee. Lance covered it with his own and squeezed. "I'll try. You deserve a Master who at least tries." 

Keith’s golden eyes went a little unfocused as he stared at their hands. “I. Um.” He cleared his throat and looked up at Lance, licking his lips. “I don’t want you to force anything, or pretend for my sake. I’ll just try harder to please you.” 

"That's stupid. Then we're both pretending and it gets us nowhere." Lance studied Keith as he processed that information and struggled to find an appropriate programmed response. Keith tugged on the end of his braid as he thought, the tail of it tangled from the fight and the flight. Lance pulled on his hand and motioned to the floor. "Come here, I'll undo your braid." 

Keith was quick to obey, settling down at Lance’s feet. “Yes, Master.” 

After a few moments of working the ribbon out of Keith's hair, Lance sighed. "I'm not pretending anything. I wanted you to at least know that. I'm not a good liar; I can't hide how I feel very well."

“Well, no, but I’m scent-perceptive,” Keith said around a hum of pleasure. “So I can smell whatever you’re feeling anyway.” 

Lance stilled. Scent-perceptive?  _ Oh no. _

Gently and slowly so that Keith could follow, Lance hooked the tips of his fingers under Keith's chin and turned him until they were facing each other. His black hair was half untangled and fell into his eyes. "If that's true, then tell me, what do I think of you? Surely you'd know that it wasn't sadness alone." 

Keith pursed his lips and squirmed. “I’m not clairvoyant. All I can do is sense emotions. I have no way of knowing what you’re thinking about when you feel them. And I try not to do it if I can help it, for your privacy.” 

"Then why do you assume the worst of me?" Lance had to know. It was boiling inside him like a geyser about to burst. 

Keith blinked, genuinely perplexed. “I...don't. I felt it. When we bonded. I felt the...the revulsion. The denial. So when I smell how morose you are around me, well...I can connect those two fairly easily.” 

Lance's jaw dropped and he let go of Keith like he'd been burned. He folded his arms to keep himself from breaking down. Keith had felt whatever he'd been thinking back then, all his confusion and frustration at himself. 

"I don't even remember what I was thinking, but it wasn't pointed at you. If you say I was feeling morose and revolted, then-" He took a shuddering breath. "That was about me." 

Keith turned that over in silence for a while. Finally, he settled on a small, quiet, “Oh.” 

"Yeah…" 

Lance couldn't believe his innermost feelings were on display for his familiar and that they'd betrayed him. Goddesses, this was so embarrassing. How many times had Keith smelled his insecurities and self doubt? His self hate? 

“I guess…” Keith trailed off before looking up at Lance with fierce determination. “As your familiar, it will be my job to not-hate you enough for us both. If protection from yourself is the sort of protection you need, that’s what I’ll do my best to protect you from.” 

A burst of a laugh spurted from between his pressed lips and split his face into a smile. "Yeah, that sounds nice. Thank you, Keith." As sad as it was, Keith was turning out to be his first friend. A friend who was forcibly bound to him; probably the most pathetic type of friend. 

Still, from the look Keith was giving him, Lance may as well have just gifted him the sun and moon. “You’re welcome, Master.”

Lance sighed. "I'm guessing that after this you still won't use my name." 

Keith grinned and shook his head. 

Smile still on his face, he tapped Keith's shoulder and pointed to the door. "Face forward so I can finish taking this ribbon out." 

“It’s a shame,” Keith sighed as he obeyed. “It was nice having it stay all in one place for a change.”

"If you leave it in, the ribbon will crinkle." Lance continued to work it out of his hair. "Plus, I like your hair down, you're-" Before his sentence was finished, there was a firm knock on the door. 

Keith glanced up at Lance and raised an eyebrow, asking silently if he ought to answer it. It was late by then, and Lance was in a dressing gown - certainly not the ideal way to receive visitors. 

Lance squinted at the door as if doing so would let him see through it. No one ever visited him; only Keith had ever knocked on his door in all the years he’d been here. It seemed so long ago when it had only been a few months. Someone probably had the wrong door.

“See what they want and give them instructions if they’re lost.” Lance nodded and moved to grab his robe from the foot of the bed.

Standing to obey, Keith opened the door with considerable caution, wary of any sort of recompense from James or his crew. Instead, it was Shiro standing on the other side of the door, looking absolutely exhausted. 

“Shiro!” Keith said happily, throwing the door open the rest of the way. 

Lance turned with trepidation. What did the King’s Mage want with them? Shiro had never once come to visit the entire time Keith had been his familiar. So why now, after the mess at the ball? His stomach sank.

“Hello, Keith.” Shiro’s voice was tight, but his face was soft. “Is your Master in?”

“Yeah, we were just having tea. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you joining.” Keith turned to call over his shoulder. “Master! It’s Shiro, can he-”

Shiro caught Keith under the arms as he slumped into unconsciousness. 

_ No. _ The vague space inside him that linked them together fizzled to numbness. It wasn’t like Keith was asleep, it was like he was  _ gone. _ Lance dropped the ties of his robe and ran the few short steps to Keith. “What did you do to him?” He tried to push Shiro away to get Keith back but the man was built like a castle wall. “What are you doing?!”

“I need you to calm down.” Shiro stepped into the room, closing the door behind himself. Gently, he lowered Keith to the floor. Looking up at Lance, Shiro held a hand up to keep him at bay. “The Elders want to put you two on trial for what happened today. They were going to send someone to sedate Keith regardless. I volunteered so at least I could ensure it was gentle and painless. Some of the others would have happily just smashed his head with a rock or something equally barbaric.” 

_ Trial?  _ His mind hitched on the word and then pushed it away.  _ Keith _ was the issue here. The order of importance in Shiro’s words was all wrong.  _ “This  _ was barbaric. You could’ve  _ asked _ , we would’ve come quietly.” Lance’s voice was a deadly hiss as he sunk to his knees and pulled Keith’s head into his lap. 

Shiro sighed and passed a hand through his hair, the tuft in front flopping back stubbornly. “Not Keith. Keith never does anything quietly, no matter how hard I tried to train him. I’m certain you’ve noticed by now. I have no idea why someone so obstinate was born marked to become a familiar, but that temper of his was always going to be the reason he got into trouble somehow.” 

“Yes. I did notice his training,” Lance said, putting all his frustration behind every word. The numbing buzz where Keith should be shortened his temper. Shiro could go to all nine hells. Lance ran a hand over Keith’s forehead. “He’s freezing. What did you do?” 

“Frostvein,” Shiro said quietly. “It will keep him out until it thaws.” 

Lance had never wished that he was a Fire Mage before that moment. While Ice was a sister magic to Water, it was harder to manipulate. It felt stubborn under his fingers and didn’t flow with Lance’s magic. That didn’t stop him from trying to pull it from Keith. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, he concentrated on the Frostvein laced through Keith’s whole body. He dropped into himself, going deeper into his magic than he normally did. Like every other time he’d ever tried, it bottomed out. He slammed into the floor of his own pool of mana.  _ No,  _ he couldn’t let that stop him. Keith needed him and for once he wasn’t going to give up. 

He slammed into it again and again, battering himself against the thing blocking him from accessing his magic - the infernal thing that always pushed him back to shore when he went too far. It was a terrifying mass that locked him away from himself. Still, he slammed against it without care for his own safety. It finally gave, just barely, imperceptibly, but it was enough.  _ There, the ice _ . It slowly turned to water as he coaxed it out drip by drip. 

Darkness. Abruptly, Lance was cut off. He reeled as reality spun back into focus.

Shiro eyed him sternly and dropped his hand, waving it to dissipate the excess magic. “Please don’t, Lesser Potions Master Fuentes. Let the Elders have this.” His whole form sagged, his face more weary than before. “I have been fighting to give Keith a chance for so long. This may be the only way he gets one. The only reason they didn’t call for him to be executed is because he is bonded.”

“Executed?” Lance squeaked, out of breath. He panted as if he’d been running a marathon. Ice always did that to him. “I won’t let them.” He was talking more to Keith than he was to Shiro, eyeing his dragon’s slackened form. “They can punish me if they like. I’ll  _ make sure _ they only punish me.” 

Lance tried to lift Keith, but he was heavier than he looked and dead weight in his arms. He hated it. He hated that he’d have to rely on someone else to protect his familiar.  _ Never again,  _ he swore to himself,  _ even for something as trivial as carrying him, I’ll never again need help. _ Placing him carefully on the floor, he stood, glaring daggers at Shiro. “Take us to trial, King’s Mage.”

Sighing, Shiro bent to lift Keith, cradling him close as if he weighed nothing. He had likely been carrying Keith that way for a good portion of his life, and it showed on his face as he looked down at the sleeping dragon. “I’m afraid it won’t be so simple. But I suppose we are about to find out.” 

~🍄~

The trial was held in the summoning room, of all places. The Elders sat in the same formation they had when Keith had first come to Lance, only this time, his familiar was chained at the wrists, ankles, and wings, locked in an iron cage far too small for him. He was only just coming to as the Elders were presenting Lance with the list of charges. 

“...Reckless handling of a familiar, neglect to control a familiar, and purposeful endangerment of others. But worst of all, Lesser Potions Master Lance d’Metrella, endangerment to the King.” Elder Mirium finished up, glancing up from her scroll. “What have you to say to these charges?” 

“Keith was acting on my orders. He only did what he was told. It’s my fault it happened,” Lance said with conviction. “I’ll take whatever punishment you decide.”

Mirium did not seem impressed. “All witnesses say that your familiar was nowhere near you at the time. You have not been bonded long enough to develop any telepathic connection.” 

“He was on orders to protect me from any threats. He didn’t understand that the ball was an exception. It was my failing in instructing him. I demand that any punishments levied on him are given to me. I have that right.”

“No.”

The protest was weak and still very drugged, but Keith shifted and blinked up at Elder Mirium from his cage. 

“He’s lying to protect me. This was all my fault. I was rash and destructive. He didn’t do anything.” 

“Keith, shut up. I’m handling this.” Lance turned pleading eyes on Mirium. “Don’t listen to him. He was injected with Frostvein and doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“No!” Keith sat up and hit his head hard on the top of the cage. “I  _ wanted  _ to burn that arrogant son-of-a-whore for the awful things he was saying about my Master. He deserved it, and I would do it again. They were threatening Lance’s safety! That’s my job!” 

He must have realized his error at the same time the Elders and Shiro did. Not only had he just disobeyed an order - he’d called his Master by name without permission and threatened the life of a Magi. His yellow eyes widened and he dropped his head. 

“It is abundantly clear, Lesser Potions Master,” Elder Greeve said darkly, “that your lack of control over your familiar has led to the creation of a feral beast far too dangerous to be left free.”

“Elder Mirium, if I may,” Shiro began, but the Elder raised her hand. 

“I agree with Elder Greeve. I believe we have seen plenty.” Her tone was flat and cold. When she turned to Lance, there was no pity in her eyes. “Lesser Potions Master Lance d’Metrella, your familiar endangered many lives tonight and threatened the safety of our King. In addition, he poses a very serious threat to the Magerium. We have no choice but to nullify this danger.” 

“He’s not a thr-”

Her voice grew louder to drown him out, “ _ We _ will discuss what our course of action will be in private. Remain here.”

Lance tsked and glared, eyes following their backs as they disappeared one by one.

The Elders, with Shiro in tow, filed out into the antechamber to decide their fates. Shiro cast a worried glance over his shoulder, and then they were left alone. 

Keith sat, silent and small in his iron prison. His head was bowed, dark hair spilling over his shoulders and obscuring his face. 

Apparently no one expected either of them to run since the room was absent of guards. Lance sat down in front of Keith’s cage. “They won’t hurt you. I won’t let them. I don’t care if they’re the most powerful mages in Belwald, I won’t let it happen.”

There was a rattling shriek of metal on metal as Keith shifted, pulling back as if he expected to be hit. “I don’t care. I don’t care what they do to me. This was my fault and you know it. Why are you trying to take it all on yourself?” 

Lance sat for a moment, studying Keith. “Everything they said about you is a lie. I’ve only ever seen you try your best and that is more than what I can say about half the mages here. Sure, we don’t get along all the time and you have your own way of getting things done. But you’re not  _ dangerous _ and you’re not  _ a threat _ . You’re passionate, and I won’t let them take that away from you.” More to himself he spat, “Even if Shiro tried.”

Frowning, Keith finally raised his head and looked at Lance, eyes unusually glassy. “Shiro did everything he could to make me the perfect familiar. And everything I’ve done undid that, without even trying. I failed him, and I’ve failed you.” 

“Shiro failed you, not the other way around.” Lance reached his fingers through the bars. The iron itched his skin. For Keith, the iron probably felt like it was melting him alive. “You’ve never failed me. Well, except for that time that you tried to sweep the cockatrice eggs into the fire to hide that you broke them, but that was more letting me down than failing me.”

The huffing sound Keith made was probably supposed to be a laugh. “Really should have gotten that toad you wanted.”

“The toad probably wouldn’t have ended up here, you’re right, but it also wouldn’t have saved me from James.” Lance wiggled his finger, reaching for Keith. “You know that Shiro isn’t the person you need to please anymore?”

It took some maneuvering, but Keith managed to shift enough to lift his shackled wrists up to meet Lance’s finger. “I know. But I haven’t exactly…” He shook his head. “Please just let me do whatever they say. Don’t put yourself in danger. You’ve already worked so hard. Just. Let me do this.” 

“I can’t promise that.” He squeezed their hooked fingers. “Shiro said that they were considering  _ execution _ and the only reason they aren’t is because we’re bonded. I-” He looked down at their fingers, brown skin interlinked with red scales. “I know our bond isn’t what you hoped for, but it’s ours. If they try-” Lance couldn’t bring himself to say it and shook his head.

“Master.”

Lance broke away from staring at fingers to gaze into fathomless golden eyes. He had no idea why his heart was pounding so fast. Keith had called him “Master” so many times in the past weeks, but this time, it sounded different. He’d never heard Keith say anything so... 

Tender. Sweet. 

Resigned. 

“Yes?”

Keith’s smile was heartbreakingly sad. “The Old Magic never makes mistakes. You opened up that portal and nothing could have kept me from answering. It  _ is  _ our bond, and you’re my Master, and I’ve spent every day of my life preparing to do anything for you. So. That’s what I’m going to do.”

“I don’t want  _ anything _ . I  _ want- _ ”

The door to the antechamber opened and both Lance and Keith turned towards their fate. Lance let go and stood protectively in front of Keith’s cage. No one said anything until they were all seated. Lance’s stomach turned at the cruel grin on Greeve’s face. Shiro’s sour expression didn’t help. He tried to focus on Mirium, whose grey eyes and pinched lips were as stoic as ever.

“The Council of Elders has come to a decision.” She turned to a page at her side, who held up a wooden box. “As the two of you share the bond of Master and Familiar, one that is new and...unique...we have decided that the best course of action at this point may not be terminating the beast.”

“Keith isn’t a  _ beast _ .” How could the council be so flippant with people’s lives? Keith was a  _ dragon _ , yes, but the way she said  _ beast _ made him sound like a dumb woodland creature. 

“Your magic isn’t powerful enough to control anything above Low Magic, so instead,” Mirium continued, “we are ordering that your familiar wear this collar at all times. It has been especially enchanted to keep its magic well tempered to your level, and to ensure that it follows your every instruction without question, Lesser Potions Master.” The page held the box out for him. “In addition, you will submit to routine observations to ensure that you are sufficiently controlling your familiar.”

The box was heavy in his hands. Lance didn’t like any of this. How dare they. Keith wasn’t meant to be controlled and maybe Lance himself had felt the disparities between them but it was another thing to hear it from the council members. Anger and shame mixed hot in his belly. They were treating Keith like he didn’t have free will and soon enough, he wouldn’t. He opened his mouth to protest but Keith was faster.

“Thank you,” Keith said, loudly and to the floor, “Council Elder, that is very generous. I accept these terms.”

Mirium looked down through her thick spectacles at Keith. “You were not asked, Familiar, nor given permission to speak before your Master. But you’ll soon learn.” 

Keith’s mouth snapped shut and he curled forward, bending his head in deference. 

“Unlock the cage,” she commanded to the page. “And Lesser Potions Master, come place the collar on your familiar. As soon as it is secure, you may be dismissed.” 

Lance looked between her and Keith, hunched over in the cage. He sighed, all fight leaving him. There was no way he was powerful enough to stop this, but he would be. Someday. 

He swore to himself that he would free Keith...and just maybe take the whole Mageirum down in the process. 

The page trotted to the cage to unlock it and bent to help Keith to his feet. It was difficult with Keith was so tightly shackled together, the short chains greatly restricting his movements. The whole sequence, the act of observing his majestic familiar treated like a common criminal...it felt like he was trapped in a nightmare, slow and otherworldly. 

A moment ago they were sharing tea; days ago they were laughing over potions. 

They had only just started to come together, and now this. 

The page left Keith preemptively and Lance was quick to take her place, steadying him. Keith was still frozen to the touch, which meant the Frostvein hadn’t worn off completely. His movements were stiff and he struggled to walk on his own, refusing to lean on Lance at all. Once they reached the dais, Lance opened the box. A thick iron collar sat unceremoniously inside. It itched his hands when he lifted it up and he wanted to command Keith to destroy it. It was heavier than it looked and crudely formed, as if the maker hadn’t even bothered to hammer it out once it was cooled.

Keith tried for a smirk. “This won’t match anything I own,” he said, too thin and reedy for the joke to land. 

Lance couldn’t help but smile for Keith’s sake. He leaned in as he clamped it around his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as it snapped closed.

Sagging a little under the weight when his veins were still functionally poisoned, Keith let his breath out on a sigh. At the same time, one of the Elders came to unshackle him, the heavy chains falling to the ground with a clang that echoed in the high chamber. He retreated quickly once it was done; Evidently, Keith was still considered very much a threat, even under Lance’s command. 

“Give your familiar a command,” Elder Greeve spoke up. “Something it may not ordinarily do. To ensure the collar works.”

Pulling back, Lance let his fingers drag across the rough surface to remind himself of what he’d done. He’d chosen to please the elders over fighting for Keith’s freedom. “Kneel.”

Keith sank to his knees, resting his palms on his thighs and bowing his head. “Yes, Master.”

Elder Greeve scoffed. “What familiar would not kneel in front of their Master? Ask the beast to show fealty. Make it kiss your hand.” 

Lance stared wide-eyed at Greeve. “You want him to kiss me?” He thought he was already pushing it with the kneeling, but to make Keith  _ kiss _ him in submission? It was  _ wrong. _ Something like that- He wanted to earn. He wanted Keith to freely give. Never to command.

“Have you not already asked this of your familiar?” one of the other Elders asked in genuine confusion.

Swallowing down his emotions, Lance held out his hand. “Kiss and prove your loyalty.”

“Yes, Master.” 

Keith bent forward and hovered his lips over Lance’s fingers. Before he could close the distance, he raised his eyes to Lance and winked - the eye the Elders couldn’t see. Then he pressed his lips to Lance’s knuckles, warm and lingering. 

Lance’s heart sped up at the touch. The wink. What did it mean? Was Keith doing that on his own, even after everything that had happened? Without thinking, he flipped his hand over and stroked Keith’s cheek with his thumb before pulling away. He focused on the elders as he spoke, “Does this satisfy you?”

“That will do,” Mirium spoke up. “King’s Mage, you may inform his majesty that the threat has been dealt with.”

Shiro bowed. “I shall.”

“Then you are dismissed.”

Keith looked up at Lance, the picture of complete obedience, waiting for the order to stand and follow. His eyes twinkled with mischief as the hidden corner of his lips quirked. 

Lance coughed. “Uh, stand. And. Follow me.” He eyed Keith the whole time he led.

There was clearly a struggle within Keith to not burst out laughing. He stood demurely and followed Lance from the summoning chamber. They made it to the outer courtyard before Keith lost the battle and started to giggle. 

“Shut up,” Lance said with a smile and elbowed him. “I’m the epitome of command and poise.”

His comment fell on deaf ears. Keith was gagging, one hand flying to his throat. He looked up at Lance, pleading with his eyes, clearly trying to suck in air but failing. 

Terror shot up Lance’s spine. “No! No I didn’t- Don’t shut up! Talk! Breathe! That wasn’t a command!”

“Master,” Keith wheezed, sinking to his knees and then falling weakly to his side. 

“What in all hells did they spell this with?” Lance followed Keith to the ground and hovered uselessly over him.

His familiar’s eyes closed and his frantic scrabbling stilled. 

Lance could taste the bile in his throat from panic. “I command you to - to not die!” 

After a few more seconds of silence, Keith cracked an eye open. 

Then he broke into a wide grin. 

Realization washed over Lance like cold water. “You wart!” He shoved him. “You really scared me!” Blood burned in his cheeks and he wanted to bury himself into the earth and hide forever.

Keith was already cackling, rolling over onto his knees. Lance sat through being laughed at for way too long and the whole time the earth didn’t swallow him, not once. Once Keith had calmed down, he grinned even wider. “I’m sorry. You’re too easy.”

"This is serious, Keith." He fell back on his butt. "What if I do something like that without realizing it? They went way too far." 

“You won’t.” Keith’s expression gentled and he reached forward to offer Lance a hand. “It isn’t enchanted. I think Shiro is the one they tasked with it. I feel his mark on it. The worst I’ll get from this hunk of metal is a rash.”

"Oh, that's good, then." Lance took his hand and stood. Once he was standing, Keith's words sunk in. This whole time he hadn’t been forced to do anything. And that wink. "Wait, really? Nothing at all? So, in there, when you…" 

Keith gave an exaggerated yawn and stretched. “Wow, I am really exhausted, time to head back, Master?” 

Everything that just happened was too much of an emotional tidal wave. Stepping forward, he pulled Keith into his arms, hugging him tight. As fast as he did it, he let go. 

Keith stared at him, unblinking. 

"Let's go to bed and be rid of this awful day." 

His familiar seemed to shake himself out of a daze. Keith nodded, rubbing one arm and smiling at the ground. “By your command.”

~🍄~

Lance kicked off the covers, but he still could feel himself melting into a puddle of his own sweat. The sheets stuck to his skin and he’d lost his shirt sometime during the night. Disoriented and still half asleep, he shoved his soaked hair out of his face.

Goddesses, what was going on? His bed was an oven and he was dinner. 

Gasping into consciousness, Lance sat up, trying to get away from the heat. It was all around him and alarm bells rang in his head, screaming at him to get out. There was a fire in the castle, in his room. 

The floor burned his feet as he stumbled from the bed. Blinking through the sweat dripping into his eyes, he blearily tried to find the source of the fire. Though the air shimmered when it caught the moonlight, it was otherwise dark, as the fireplace had long since turned to ash. 

He blinked. 

The fire had gone out. 

Lance whirled around, searching for Keith. Not once. Not a single time since Keith had become his familiar had the fireplace lost its flame. 

He dragged the spare quilt from the foot of his bed and spread it on the stone before dropping to his knees and peering underneath the wooden frame. 

Long ago, Keith had opted to tug his bedroll into the furthest corner under Lance’s bed, and had since slept in a hidden tangle that usually kept his sheets pleasantly warm. As soon as his face went level with the ground, Lance felt a blast of hot air that left his cheeks stinging and his eyes watery. There was a shuffling of bedclothes from the pile in the corner, followed by an uncharacteristically small whimper. 

Instinctively, Lance reached out to shake him awake. “Hey, Keith-” He hissed as he pulled his hand back, shoving his fingers into his mouth.  _ Fuck _ . It was like he’d touched a pot straight out of the fire. Wrapping his fingers in water, he tried again. Before he even got close, the water evaporated. “Keith, wake up, you’re dreaming,” he said, desperate for the temperature to settle down.

On some level, Keith must have sensed him. He rolled around somewhere within his blankets, enough for his tail to flop out and thump a few times against the stone in distress. 

Lance grunted and wiggled out from under the bed. There had to be some way to wake Keith up; otherwise, he’d have to evacuate his room in the dead of night and sleep out in the cold spring air. His eyes landed on the poker next to the fireplace. 

Well, desperate times and all that. 

Brandishing his new weapon, Lance crawled back under the bed and poked at Keith's bedroll. “Keith, wake up. You need to stop it.”

On the third prod, Keith rolled over onto all fours, his features half-transformed. With wild, frightened eyes, he looked over Lance without really seeing him, his half-scaled sides working like a bellows to belt out hot air as he gasped and panted. 

“Woah, hey.” The air was already starting to cool but if Keith kept panting like that it’d never go back to normal. “It’s just me, Lance, you’re in our room.” He tried to reach out through their bond as well but it was numb, just like it had been with the Frostvein. This time he could identify Shiro’s mark on the magic now that he’d already felt it before - the same bright, crisp barrier that left him buzzing. 

Keith’s eyes were slitted and faintly glowing in the darkness under the bed. They roved over Lance cautiously as Keith crawled forward, his breathing slowing. By the time his head was out from beneath the frame, enough of the fear and confusion had cleared for him to say, “Master?” in a voice vulnerable and thick with sleep. 

Hesitating, Lance put down his poking stick and held out his hands. “I think you were having a bad dream.” He almost pulled his hands back to his sides but doubled down on the action, wiggling his fingers for Keith to come to him. He’d already failed Keith so many times, he wouldn’t fail here.

Some sort of trigger went off inside of Keith, his eyes widening in terror before he surged forward. His hands were everywhere - on Lance’s cheeks and hair and shoulders and arms as he babbled.

“You’re alive, you’re okay, you’re - it’s you, right, you’re actually - alive and - and - they didn’t -”

“I’m fine - sweaty, but fine. No one did anything to me,” Lance said, trying to soothe rather than be soothed. He let Keith inspect him, but at the same time tried to reassure him that he was alright by, well, by trying to feel alright and hoping Keith’s nose would pick up on it.

Which apparently was exactly what Keith was trying to do, snuffling shamelessly, desperately, into his hair and in the air around his neck. It seemed to satisfy him enough that his claws relaxed their grip, but with the adrenaline wearing off, his body began to tremble. 

“They-” He broke off with a quiet gasp. “They tried.” Gasp. “It got.” Gasp. “They broke it. And you - I could  _ feel _ it when you -” 

He’d never seen Keith scared. It seemed wrong on a visceral level for a High Magic dragon to be scared of anything. Carefully, and ready to back off at any sign of revulsion, Lance enfolded Keith in his arms. “Shh. It was a dream, a trick of the night. Stories placed by wicked minions of Glarie. She was probably jealous of your heat and wanted to steal some for herself.”

Keith shook his head fiercely, pressing it into Lance’s bare chest. “It was my fault. They severed our bond. But they killed you. They left me and killed you because of what I did. It was all my fault.” 

Running his fingers over Keith’s silky hair, Lance shushed him again. “It didn’t happen. I’m right here, see? You can touch me and feel me and our bond isn’t broken,” he said into the top of Keith’s head.

“But I can’t feel you like I did before,” Keith whined back, looking up at him with eyes that were strange in their reptilian paranoia. “Ever since you put this thing on my neck, something’s been interfering with the bond. Can’t you tell?” 

Lance realized how selfish he’d been. This whole time he’d only worried about himself and the way the bond felt weak to him. Not once had he given thought to whether Keith was affected.

“I didn’t think - I’m sorry.” He nodded and fingered the crude collar. When he touched it, the buzzing and numbness grew until he couldn’t feel Keith at all. “I thought it didn’t work.”

“It doesn’t. I mean, it doesn’t take away my free will or make me do things or anything the Magerium actually wanted. But it’s still someone else’s magic - Shiro’s, I think - and it’s like...as if I can still see you, but through a thick cloud of mist.” Keith looked up at him. “Can they do something like that? Can the Magerium interfere with someone’s bond?”

“I don’t know,” Lance whispered. He wanted to wipe his fingers off as if the act of doing so would dispel the magic. “I’ve never dealt with anything bond magic-related. I thought death was the only way to sever it.”

“I did too.”

Keith was quiet, looking somewhere past Lance’s shoulder as he thought, body still quaking now and then. “I think that’s why I...dreamed what I did.”

“Do you think if I?” Lance braced himself and ran his finger over the metal again. This time he was ready for the soul-deep numb that came with it. Gently, he pressed a minutia of mana into the metal the way he did when he made potions. A drop from the raw pool inside him sunk into the very fiber of the collar, becoming a part of its structure. 

The effect was startling for the limited amount of effort it took. Keith visibly shuddered all the way down and slumped against him, letting his breath out in a rush. It didn’t seem to cause any harm and Lance could feel their bond again, even if it was weak. Shiro’s magic was still the majority stored inside the collar, so Lance opened up. He let it flow from him to be eaten by the metal. It would take days, maybe weeks, to restore this much mana, but he didn’t care. The more he added, the more Keith relaxed in his arms.

“Y’know,” Keith slurred, relaxed and sleep-thickened. “Part of why you have me is to pull from my mana too. You look tired.” 

Lance considered that. He’d never called on Keith’s mana before. He understood the technical aspects of how he’d do it, but wasn’t confident in his ability to do something like that on a thing that was secured around his familiar’s neck. It was probably safer to practice on something else. Plus, he was supposed to be doing this  _ for _ Keith, to prove that he wasn’t useless. 

“No, it’s okay. I want to.” Lance winced at his own voice sounding reedy and dry as the last of his mana was sucked into the collar.

“Feels nice,” Keith mumbled. “Cool. Without you, it got too hot.” 

“What got too hot?” Lance did his best to control his breathing. He didn’t want Keith to realize how much that had taken out of him.

“Everything.” 

He’d clearly done something right. Keith was practically asleep in his arms by that point, dead weight against his chest. 

Lance should put him to bed. He should get him back in his bedroll. That would be the proper Magerium way. 

Yet. 

Lance traced the high cheekbones and sharp nose, letting his fingers memorize the soft face that was normally so stern, it was almost angry. For the first time, Lance felt like Keith needed him in a way that he was able to give. It was… nice. More than nice, it was  _ right.  _

There was a part of him, the magic inside him, that would give anything to the person in his arms, even his life. But he, himself, wasn’t there yet. He wondered if they even counted as friends now. Running his fingers through Keith’s hair, he sighed, overwhelmed by the cavernous difference between his consciousness and his magic. For now, he should sleep. 

Reaching up for his pillow, he sank to the floor, Keith still in his arms, and drifted off next to his warmth. It was easy and comfortable and he wasn’t sure what Keith would think if they woke up like this. Still, after everything, all he wanted to do was hold Keith and pretend that everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* there is art! Thank you to @sharklancestan uwu this made our day T_T [look at it, it looks like a manga cover](https://twitter.com/sharklancestan/status/1237520993314205697?s=20)
> 
> Autumn: Part of the inspiration for the first scene was the idea that Adam, with Earth-aligned magic, taught Keith how to make pottery as a way to pass time. This resulted in a lumpy, shitty little mug that is the ONLY THING Shiro will drink his tea from, and it sits on his desk, and says S hE e Ro. 
> 
> Also we want to know! Do you have any headcanons for this universe? We want to hear any and all of them, and maybe integrate them into future chapters! 
> 
> Sail: We've made it halfway through the first book!!! I'm crying, the hit count is over 2k and i'm CRYING i love you all, thank you so much
> 
> Upcoming fic: Lemon Boys: trans!Keith's life is upturned when Lance from the wrong side of the tracks gets accepted into his prep school. They have to battle homophobia, transphobia, and class discrimination. We'll be taking a break after book 1 to post Lemon Boys, then it'll be on to book 2
> 
> Sail posted a twitter link, it was super effective [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *does a little twitter dance*  
> [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

~🍄~

Spring

It was shortly after dawn when the soft knock interrupted Lance’s morning. He’d been sitting down to read a long awaited potions book that’d just been scribed by the library. Naively, he’d thought he’d have the chance while Keith was still sleeping soundly under his bed. The rapping was so light, it would have been easy to miss, especially with the way his infernal dragon snored. Almost as if the person wasn’t sure they really wanted him to answer. 

Knocks were quickly becoming one of Lance’s most hated sounds. Memories of the last time someone unexpected knocked on his door flashed through his head and he almost didn't answer. A second knock, even quieter than the first, had him putting his book down to answer. He opened the door only a crack, peeking out with one eye.

To his chagrin, it was once again the King’s Mage, looking pressed and polished as ever but the darkness under his eyes suggested that he hadn’t slept in many nights. 

“Lesser Potions Master Fuentes,” Shiro greeted in a whisper. “I had hoped you’d be awake. May I speak with you?”

Lance was ready to slam the door at any sign of ill will. There was no way Shiro was poisoning Keith ever again. Not on his watch. "Me? Don't you want to talk to Keith?" 

“No.” Shiro smiled as Keith’s snore vibrated the floor. “I had counted on him still being asleep, and I see that hasn’t changed. Walk with me?”

“He had a long night. Normally he’s up by now,” Lance grumbled because it was true. Most days Keith was awake before him and making tea. Ever since the trial, though, Keith had been plagued with nightmares and Lance couldn’t say he was much better. Either way, he felt the need to defend his familiar.

Lance looked back at Keith, or more accurately, the tail sticking out from under the bed and thumping occasionally in sleep. They’d spent the night calming down and going over Keith’s herb primer. Keith seemed to like to hear him talk about plants and Lance liked the distraction. The book still sat on the floor next to his tail. What if he had another nightmare? Or woke up confused? Lance despised that this was a request from the King’s Mage. He had no right to deny the request. "Fine, but only if it's quick," he said more for himself. The talk would go on as long as Shiro wished it to. He stepped out and closed the door firmly, but quietly, behind him. 

Shiro ducked his head in thanks and motioned for them to go down the hallway towards the gardens. 

The Magerium was quiet at this time of day. The sun was slow to wake in high spring, the creamy orange and pink of it blooming lazily on the horizon. Shiro led them to a quiet, concealed spot with a stone bench where nightlilies were beginning to curl and close for the day, sheltering their twinkling blue insides from the light. 

Sitting heavily on the bench, Shiro bent forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I owe you an explanation. And an apology.” 

Lance crossed his arms, deciding that he quite liked looking down on Shiro from this position, and chose to stand. He couldn’t tell if he was in trouble with the Magerium or not, so he tested his luck. “Don’t you think it should be to Keith? You know. The person who trusted you. The one you drugged.” 

That definitely got a wince. “You may not believe me, but Keith means a great deal to me. Anyone who raises a living, thinking creature from infancy is bound to fall in love with it, to want to protect it. He grew so quickly and I was so young when he hatched…” Shiro’s eyes stared off into a memory Lance did not share, putting him further on edge. 

_It. It. It,_ Lance sneered behind his carefully neutral expression. Why did the whole world treat Keith as if he weren't a person? At Shiro's silence, Lance worried that his inside face had turned into an outside face. 

“He’s my family,” Shiro continued after a moment, to Lance’s great relief. “In all ways that matter, he’s my _son._ But it was also my responsibility to make sure he was ready for the life the Stars chose for him.” 

_Cute._ Lance tried to imagine doing what Shiro had done. He imagined knocking on his sibling’s door and poisoning them so that he could quietly drag them to a trial that might be their death. Lance shook his head, eyes hardening. He couldn’t. Not ever. He’d rather run away with them and lose everything he’d earned in his lifetime, than drug and chain a single one of them. 

Shiro sighed. “He hatched with the mark of a familiar already blazing on his chest. No bigger than a loaf of bread, and his destiny was already written. I couldn’t stop it. I could only try my best to make sure he was ready.”

“By training him to be constantly scared of being punished and never able to speak anything but the phrases you drilled into him?” Lance’s temper was growing. Had Shiro invited him out here to hand him practiced excuses? He could go to all nine hells, nine times.

“Make no mistake.” Shiro glanced to the side, eyeing Lance seriously. “I care for him deeply, of course I do. I’d lay down my life for him without hesitation. But I wanted to see him happy, and there was no guarantee he would be summoned by a Master who saw him as I did: a sentient, majestic creature with free will. If I had treated him as if he would never one day serve, he may have spent the rest of his life in misery having known what it was like to be loved, only to be demoted to being merely useful. Valuable. Owned.” 

Mushrooms grew around Lance’s feet, spreading into a ring as his anger sharpened. No wonder he could so easily treat Keith the way he did. He’d long ago convinced himself that Keith was a _creature_ before he was _Keith_. “I hope I’m not living up to your high standards, then, King’s Mage.” 

Shiro took in a long breath and it fell heavily between them. “I don’t think you’re like that, Magi Fuentes. I could see it at the trial. You value Keith - not as your familiar, but as himself.” 

The mushrooms sprang up, sheltering them from the rising sun with their enormous caps and littering the ground in bright red. Lance pressed against the largest mushroom, half hiding from Shiro. They’d always been a comfort when no one else was. "I do. That's why I'm going to make sure he stays safe. From _everyone_."

Shiro looked at him with genuine confusion. “I’m going to assume that includes me? I didn’t intend to insult you,” he said, batting one of the caps away from his face as it tried to separate them, “but I can see that you don’t believe me about my motivations. Tell me - where did you grow up?” 

Lance paused, thrown off kilter by the change in conversation. The mushrooms shrunk and curled in on themselves as he blinked down at Shiro. “Metrella; outside of Vlona. Why?”

“Ah.” Shiro passed a hand over his face and when he dropped it, his smile was faraway and sad. “Far from Highmount and the Border Wars. You likely were too young or too far away to remember the purge that occurred back then. During the conflict that put King Alfor on the throne, part of the treaty was that familiars higher than Common or Low Magic would be slaughtered. They were rounded up; killed in mass. Their Masters either perished or went insane. It was seen as a necessary act to keep the peace - The Great Balancing, they called it. The horrifying part was how little opposition that faced from anyone who was _not_ a Master - not even those with the Familiars being spared. It had been so long since anyone had summoned anything more powerful than a timber wolf, it hardly seemed worth putting up a fight. Not after decades of war, at least.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. “Ten years later, I found Keith.” 

The mushrooms burst. Lance stumbled at the loss of his hiding-shroom, the ground squelching under his feet. “Those rules have been reversed. That was the past. You can’t kill bonded familiars, now. It’s inhumane - more than that. It’s unthinkable, High Magic or not. I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

“That not everyone is game to follow the laws like you are, Magi Fuentes.” Shiro fixed him with a stern look. “That there are more people than you realize who would easily kill a dragon before speaking to him. That sort of prejudice is still very much alive in Belwald. Look at what happened to the Crown Princess.” 

His mind drifted back to the villagers and the Glarionweed. How the man had leveled his crossbow at them- at Keith. Lance shook his head. That was different. That wasn’t what had happened to Crown Princess Allura, and what happened to her would never happen to Keith. He’d make sure of it. “Thank you for the warning. If that’s all then?”

Shiro stood and smiled ruefully as he brushed water off his black and white tabard. “I suppose so. I won’t trouble you any further, but…” He hesitated, chewing at his lip. It was nearly identical to the way Keith did it - likely a habit he had picked up from mimicking his guardian. “Please. Know that you can come to me, and I will help you. You both have a place with Adam and I whenever you need it. And...and thank you. I am so very grateful that the Old Magic chose you for each other. Take care of him.” 

Lance eyed him and bowed his head. “Is that what this is about? Do you not feel like I’m taking sufficient care of my familiar?”

The smile Shiro gave him was gentle. “On the contrary. It’s not the command of a guardian - it’s just a sincere request from the people who love him and want, more than anything, for him to live a happy life.” 

“Did-” Lance was pretty sure he was about to overstep his bounds, but he had to know. Even if it cost him a punishment. “Did your puma have someone, others, that he was more attached to than you?”

Shiro blinked, clearly confused. “Adam? I guess I’m not sure. He doesn’t recall much before he was summoned. Keith likely means as much to him as I do, but I would say the same thing and he knows it. But before us? I don’t think so. Why do you ask?” 

Jealousy curled in the pit of Lance’s stomach and he bit down on his lip. It still wasn’t fair and it’d never been fair. No other familiar came with such a past and it was possible that Lance would always be secretly second or even third place with Keith. He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

A series of expressions flickered over Shiro’s face before it settled on something that looked insufferably knowing. His heavy wooden hand came to rest on Lance’s shoulder and he smiled. “You have all the time in the world to unravel each other and learn about what’s at your cores, but let me offer this last thing. If he’d been given a choice...I think Keith would choose you regardless.” 

“That’s kind of you.” Pathetic. Lance needed to get himself together. The King’s Mage himself had better things to do than try and patch his ego. “I appreciate your words, but it really is nothing.”

“Of course.” The weight of Shiro’s hand withdrew and he bowed to Lance. “Thank you for your time, Magi Fuentes.”

Not that there was much of a choice when the King's Mage called. Lance bowed in return. "Stars illuminate your path." 

He watched Shiro leave, but couldn't get his feet to move. Keith was probably awake now and confused. Lance needed to get back. If he returned to Keith in this state, he wasn't sure what he'd let slip. Keith was still recovering from the trial, still fighting off the occasional heat-burst of a nightmare, and didn't need this pressure on him. 

What Lance needed to do was take a long walk around the garden to think before heading back to the dorm. 

Lance wouldn't deny that Shiro seemed genuine, but he'd also confessed to what he'd feared about Keith. Apparently Shiro had trained Keith for the worst and _the worst_ was all around the Magerium. It wasn't hard to see. 

He rounded the corner and into the rose maze. Mushrooms grew in his footprints, springing from the ground and drooping in his absence. 

It was clear at the ball who abused their familiars, who was neglectful. When magic was linked, things like that were hard to miss. It hurt to even look at, but it was always ignored. Even Lance ignored it. There were no laws protecting the pairings, there couldn't be. To separate them was murder. 

Lance sighed, smacking a rose from its stem. Immediately, he felt awful. The rose had done nothing and now he’d killed it. Bending, he scooped the fallen blossom and ran a finger over the velvet petals. Red as fire. Red as Keith. He pressed it to his chest. 

Keith was always so quick to ask for punishment and so confused when it didn't happen. Shiro didn't seem to abuse his own familiar, but Keith? Lance shuddered. He didn’t want to believe it. 

Still. Despite the training, it was obvious who Keith listened to when it came down to it. Even when following Lance, he was really following Shiro. Shiro’s old commands and teachings. That’s what Keith was listening to, not Lance’s current ones. Keith had still only called him Master every day since the trial despite every request not to.

The walk only served to make Lance angrier. 

By the time he returned to the dorm, the sun was already streaming through the window in the thin light of early morning. When he opened the door, he was greeted by an unfamiliar smell - something sweet and spicy and very welcoming. 

“Oh, you’re back,” Keith greeted. It was no longer unusual to see him awake before 10, but it _was_ unusual for him to be so cheerful about it, especially after a long night. He was kneeling by the fireplace, his hair bound up in a messy pile on his head with the velvet ribbon Lance had braided into it on the night of the ball. 

When he glanced up, wiping his wrist across his damp forehead, he was smiling. “Tea is already steeping, it should be ready by now. I thought you could use a real breakfast to tackle that new order, and not that pitiful little plate of stale corncakes you usually resort to. Give it another, hm, ten minutes? Would you like fresh cream, or just honey?” 

Lance froze. "You're awake," he said dumbly, unsure if he'd been hoping Keith would return to his old habits for one day. Part of his brain was still talking to Shiro and running the conversation over and over in his head. "And you made food." He stood in the doorway, looking between Keith the fireplace and the window like he was trying to put a complicated puzzle together. "Did Shiro stop by while I was gone?" 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Shiro? Why would he? And yes, I made food. Where were you?” 

"In the garden, taking a walk.” After he said it, he realized it was a lie of omission. Lance stepped in and closed the door. He shook his head to refocus, pushing the unpleasant conversation with Shiro down. Blinking up at Keith, Lance could finally process what he was looking at. Which was a rat's nest for hair. All the anger and frustration warmed into something sweeter at the sight. 

"Do you want me to do your hair again?" 

Keith’s hand flew up to it and he rolled his eyes back, as if he could actually look at the top of his head if he just really put his mind to it. “Did I do a bad job? I hate having it in my eyes when I’m trying to cook.” 

"You sure did something, but I'm worried you'll have to cut the ribbon out if we don't fix it." Lance fetched the comb from the dresser and brought the chair over to the fire, setting it down behind Keith. "This might take a while to untangle." 

With a sigh, Keith plopped back and submitted to his fate. “Well, it can’t take longer than the coffee cake will take to cook. So. That’s your time frame, Master. Chop chop.” 

Lance snorted. Keith in a good mood was much more open and fun. He could get used to this. "I'll do my best." 

Keith's hair was so silky that it didn't take much to untangle. Lance was very tempted to brush against the velvety horns, but was able to restrain himself. 

Lance continued to brush, more for himself than for Keith’s sake. Even here, in his room with his familiar, he couldn’t shake the conversation. The longer he sat there, the more a curl of jealousy and anger took over his thoughts. He wasn’t in the chair brushing Keith’s hair anymore, he was back with Shiro. But this time, he was giving Shiro a piece of his mind, telling him off. 

Keith yelped, startling Lance back into the room. His fist was full of long ebony strands and he dropped them immediately, letting them fall back into place. In his anger he must have yanked on Keith’s hair, not that his familiar would ever tell him if he asked. He’d hurt Keith, even if it was an accident. He had to get control of himself. 

Heart heavy and hands shaking, Lance bent to encircle Keith in his arms, pulling him close from behind. 

Keith stiffened initially, but his hands flew up to grip Lance’s forearms. “...Master?” 

"Tell me that thing again. The thing you always say about Old Magic." 

Leaning a little to the side, just enough to be able to look at Lance from the corner of his eye, Keith raised an amused eyebrow. He relaxed into Lance’s hold and said, dutifully and sincerely, “The long version? The Old Magic finds souls the world has torn apart and sews them back together once more. Or the short version? The Old Magic never makes mistakes. Ever.” 

Lance let out a sigh. Keith smelled like a fireplace and coffee cake. It was comforting and real in a way words could never be. Still, the words helped. Even if it was only a small amount. "And you believe that?" 

“Yes.” Keith shrugged. “Do you?” 

It was hard to believe anything about himself wasn't a mistake. But, Keith couldn't be. The stars may do that to him, but they wouldn’t do that to Keith. Instead of answering, Lance squeezed Keith a little tighter. It was enough that Keith believed.

Lance stayed that way for as long as he could allow himself. "Tell it to me again in the evening."

Keith clearly sensed something was bothering him, but instead of pushing, he simply leaned back into the embrace and knocked his horns gently against Lance’s chest. “Whenever you like. Just say the word.” 

"Thank you." Lance sat back, letting his arms glide over Keith's shoulders to prolong the touch. Composing himself, Lance returned to Keith's hair. Soon it was braided out of his eyes and tied into a high bun behind his horns. All before the coffee cake burned. Just as promised. 

"There. How's that feel?" 

“Nice.” The word was more of a groan, and came at the tail end of a definite purr. “Careful or I could get used to this.” 

"I don't mind. I used to do my sister's all the time. I miss it." Lance gave the ribbon one final tug. "I could also show you how if you don't want me to." 

“Not a chance,” Keith said cheerfully as he reached forward and grabbed the covered iron pot that had been brooding over the fire. “Now you better eat this, I had to steal so much butter…” 

~🍄~

9 Years Ago, Early Summer

The castle was quiet, which was all the better for Shiro because soon it would be time to welcome the new acolytes. The Summer was Shiro’s favorite and also his least favorite. It was his favorite because most of the castle went back to their hometowns for Midsummer, leaving much more breathing room for him and his family. It was his least favorite because at the end, it would be time to test the new children and everything would grow twice as loud and twice as dangerous. 

“Shiro, about Keith,” Adam said, voice quiet so he didn’t wake Keith, who lay napping in the other room. 

Shiro took a deep swig of his tea, emptying the cup. “We’ve already talked about this. I gave you my answer.”

“It’s not good enough. With all the children gone, he’s been sleeping more and more. I think he’s...sad.”

“What do you want me to do about it? Pluck one of the acolytes from their homes and make them swear up and down not to tattle?” Shiro put his cup down too hard and it clanked against the table. He winced. It was the first misshapen cup Keith had made when he was four, with the help of Adam. “We’ll just have to-”

“Have to what, Shiro? Force him to play with two adults who are too busy being the King’s Mage and his Familiar to entertain a small dragon all day? He needs a playmate his age. It’s not an option anymore.” Adam knelt down next to his chair and gathered Shiro’s hands to kiss his knuckles. “I’m worried.”

Shiro sighed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed Keith’s irregular sleeping habits and he knew the poor child was lonely. But they were all lonely. This life was one of secrecy and it was better for Keith to learn that lesson now. Adam’s large eyes begged him for things he couldn’t promise, but he had never been able to say no to them. “I will…I will find some kind of solution.”

Adam bent and touched his forehead to Shiro’s hand. “You always do.” 

And he did. It took him another few weeks, during which Keith had become so listless that his hair hung limp and his scales had dulled to the point where he always looked as if he was coated in dust. It was possibly a stroke of luck or intervention by the Stars that led Shiro to visit that particular supply closet at that exact moment, but that was where he found one of his Defensive Magic pupils with her arms around her familiar, doing anything but stocking up on parchment. 

“Annalys?” he’d asked in surprise. It wasn’t really a question; the girl had hair that defied gravity and was the color of fall apples. There was no mistaking her as she squeaked and flung herself away from her familiar, directly into a stack of books that went crashing to the ground. Her eyes were wide and horrified as she gaped at Shiro. Her familiar, a young strix, looked similarly terror-stricken, his enormous owl-like eyes widening as the pupil constricted. 

“Sir! We were just - we were -” Annalys babbled, gesturing with shaking hands. Fat tears pooled and fell down her cheeks as she looked at him. “We…”

Shiro held up a hand. “I’m not going to turn you in. I came for ink, and that’s all I found.”

He had expected relief. He had _not_ expected the sort of crushing embrace that stole the air from his lungs, especially not from a girl somewhere near her 14th summer. Annalys sobbed openly into his tabard, and Shiro awkwardly patted her head. 

“Thank you, Sir. Thank you. If I lost - if they took him…” She dissolved into hiccups.

Shiro understood that sentiment all too well. He’d likely been in this same supply closet with Adam when he was a teen. “It’s alright. But you must be more careful.”

“I will. We will. Anything you like, Sir, anything.”

Now, Shiro was not an opportunist and he never took advantage of people in weakened states, but he also knew when a path was being presented and when it ought to be traveled. 

“Well,” he said carefully, looking down at her with a lopsided smile. “What are you two up to later tonight?”

~🍄~

When Shiro knocked on Keith’s door that evening, the ‘come in’ was quiet. Keith was sitting in front of his fireplace, knees tucked to his chin. His hair was down his back and damp from his bath. Usually, he hated wet hair so much that he would immediately heat himself up to the point where it would evaporate within minutes. Now it seemed as if he hardly noticed, or cared. He was idly tracing the air in front of himself, drawing the smoke out from the chimney to make suspended little doodles of stars, flowers, the moon, and something that looked mostly like a horse. 

“Your control over smoke is improving.” Shiro sat down next to him, pointing at the probably-horse.

Keith grunted, then belatedly added, “Yes, Sir.” 

Shiro nodded and turned away to grimace. He was so bad at talking to Keith outside of lessons these days. It had been so easy when he was a child, but this moodier version of him was nearly impenetrable. Adam was right; they weren't enough anymore. A part of his heart broke at that thought. Someday Keith wasn't going to need them at all and he'd leave. 

He clenched his fists to keep from scooping Keith into a hug. "Is this what you do in here all day? Wouldn't you rather go play in the garden or by the pond like you used to?”

Keith glanced up at him, and the expression on his face made Shiro feel as if he had three heads, or had said something so stupid it was offensive. “I’m not a baby.” 

What did that have to do with gardens and- _Oh._ Apparently frog catching was no longer cool. He wished Adam had warned him. "No, you're not," Shiro said, throat catching at the thought. His fists unclenched and this time he did pull Keith into a half-hug. "I just didn't realize gardens and ponds were for babies. You'll have to forgive me for being old." 

That got a small laugh and a smile from Keith, and he even rested his head on Shiro’s shoulder. 

Shiro gave him a quick squeeze. "We're going to have some people over soon and-" 

“You and Adam both said it thousands and thousands of times. I’ll be silent.” Keith rolled his eyes. 

"And," Shiro emphasized, "We want you to meet them. I think you'll find that you have a lot in common." 

Silence. 

Keith stared at him. 

“You,” he repeated slowly. “Want _me_ . To… _meet_ them?” 

Shiro leaned back to hold Keith's gaze. "You don't even have to use your glamour. You can meet them in any form you feel comfortable in." 

Golden eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. “Why?” 

"So they can meet the real you." If ten years old was this hard, Shiro dreaded the teen years right around the corner. "I want you to see if you like them and if, for you, that means no glamour, then you don't have to use it." 

“But,” Keith protested. “But I can’t _ever_ talk to anyone. No one can know I’m even alive. You said. You _said!_ ” 

"Patience," Shiro said, shifting into his teaching voice, stern and commanding. Keith was letting that temper show and it needed to be controlled before he was summoned. "You're not a baby anymore, right? That means you can handle more complicated rules. We have to be extremely careful who knows you exist, but I trust you to handle this new responsibility."

They were obviously the correct words, because Keith rocked back to sit on his calves, hands on his thighs and head bowed. “Yes, Sir,” he said, and he sounded so much older than 10, almost world-weary, but he looked so young. His cheeks were still pudgy with baby fat and his hair was still thin and downy-soft. It felt like both seconds and decades since he’d hatched and it left Shiro off-kilter with emotion. 

“That’s a good boy.” Shiro ruffled his hair and was immediately batted away. Chuckling, low and deep, he stood. “Why don’t you get ready to meet your new friends? It’ll be good practice for when you have to introduce yourself to your Magi.”

“Yes, Sir,” Keith said, and because he was still in training mode, asked, “May I stand?” 

A surge of pride welled up in his heart. Just two years ago, Keith’s temper would have taken over the entire discussion and he’d have a screaming dragon spitting fire at him. Now, here Keith was, having gotten upset yet still asking for permission. “Yes. You’ve really improved, Keith. I’m proud of you.”

Keith rose gracefully and bowed to Shiro with a hint of a smile. “Thank you, Sir. I’m glad my performance pleases you.” 

Keith was his pupil, but he was family first, and Shiro was a weak man. He bent forward to kiss the crown of Keith’s hair, right between the rising points of his growing horns. “Don’t take too long.”

“Okay.”

“And put on a _clean_ tunic, please.”

“Okay.”

“...Oh, and brush your h-“

“ _Okay!”_

When Shiro closed Keith’s door behind him to give the boy a little privacy, he had three pairs of eyes watching him. Adam was deeply amused, having heard that conversation more times than he could probably count, but the green and yellow eyes blinking back at him looked downright horrified. He supposed it would make sense for Annalys and Oriax to be surprised. No one ever talked back to the King’s Mage - except his own brat of a son. 

“Uh,” he said, eyes narrowing at Adam as his familiar raised a hand to his mouth to hide his chuckle. “He’ll be out shortly.” 

Annalys shifted a little in her cross-legged position. “Should we...what do we call him? What’s his title?” 

Shiro’s eyebrows lifted. “Keith.” 

She shook her head. “Yes, Sir, but what is his rank? What do you call the King’s Mage’s whelp?”

He tripped a little over the word ‘whelp,’ before remembering that Annalys was Riverfolk and their speech was…well. “Peculiar” seemed reasonably polite. “Just Keith. He doesn’t have a rank. He’s a child, and that’s why you’re here. He doesn’t need a tutor or anything like that. He needs a friend.” Shiro softened, giving her a small smile. “Since I know you’ve never really met a stranger, I think you’ll be perfect for each other.” 

It was a compliment that she seemed pleased with, and she preened at it more than her owl-like familiar. “Yes sir, King’s Mage. You can count on us.” 

Shiro’s smile warmed a little. “I hope so. Prove me right.” 

It was another few minutes before Keith’s door opened and he peeked out from the crack, uncharacteristically shy. Shiro looked up from his cup of tea and beckoned him in. Keith stepped out and shut the door behind him, his hair at least combed if not neat, and dressed in the finest tunic and breeches he owned. He’d even belted his tunic - notoriously difficult to convince him to do. These details would go unappreciated by Annalys and Oriax, but Shiro and Adam caught each others’ eyes and smiled. Keith obviously cared about this encounter more than he perhaps let on. 

“Keith,” Shiro said, motioning him forward. “This is Annalys, and her familiar, Oriax. Annalys, Oriax - this is Keith.”

Keith blinked at Oriax and then looked to Adam. “Is he a bird or a person? Or a bird person?”

Adam and Shiro both said “Keith!” as Oriax’s feathers ruffled up and Annalys gave an ugly snorting laugh into her teacup. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and stood, crossing over to kneel in front of Keith, sticking a hand out with a smile. 

“Oriax is a strix - so kind of a bird-person, yeah. An owl, particularly. But he can hear and speak just like Adam.” She nodded to her open hand encouragingly. “Hullo, little sir. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Keith looked at her hand, back to Shiro, and then down again. He took it in his own, holding his other arm behind his back and gave a gallant bow, kissing her knuckles. Annalys seemed about as taken aback as everyone else in the room, Shiro no less than anyone. He looked at Adam suspiciously, who was beaming with pride. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Annalys. My name is Keith, and I’m at your service.” 

Eyebrows raised, she gave him a crooked, freckly grin. “Stars illuminate, Keith. I hope we’ll be good friends, _cha_?” 

The strange inflection didn’t seem to throw Keith. He was too invested in his performance. He sidestepped Annalys and stood in front of Oriax, arms to his side and bowed his head - one familiar to another. “Stars illuminate, Or…Oray...” His nose scrunched. “Um.”

“Oriax,” Oriax said, and bowed his head in return, though his mouth twisted up. “Illuminated paths to you, Keith.”

Keith looked up through his bangs. “Sorry I called you a bird-person.”

Oriax shrugged. “No harm done, lizard-person.” 

Instantly, Keith’s face was a picture of indignation, before the joke caught up with him and he laughed - sharp and loud.

Adam and Shiro looked at each other again. It had been so long since they’d heard their son laugh. 

~🍄~

9 Years Ago, Mid Summer

“That’s not where it goes.”

“It is too where it goes. Look harder.”

“I’m an owl, I have perfect eyesight, and that’s not where that piece goes. You’re a lizard, you can’t see the nose in front of your face.” 

“I am not!” 

“Close enough.”

“If you two boys are done arguing,” Annalys cut in, “Pretty sure that piece goes _there_ and you nail it in with this.” She held up a hammer.

Adam had no idea where she’d procured the hammer from but he swiftly snatched it from the girl’s grasp. “And just what are you lot up to? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the festival?” 

“We are ready,” Keith protested. “And we’re making you a surprise! Don’t ruin it!” 

“Not with very large hammers you are not,” Adam said sternly. “All three of you are covered in dirt.” 

Keith looked between himself, Annalys, and Oriax. 

“Yes,” he admitted. 

Adam sighed. “ _Why_ are you covered in dirt?” 

Annalys huffed. “We had to get the wood from somewhere.” 

“There’s no time for this.” Adam rubbed his temple. “Keith, Ori, you two can share my tub. Anny, you can use Shiro’s. I want all three of you scrubbed raw in a candlemark.” 

The children scattered, Annalys going the completely wrong way while Keith and Oriax fought to get to the bath first. Shiro was going to get an earful when he got back from his mission. How dare he leave Adam in charge of two teenagers and one preteen? He was only one puma, Goddesses help him. 

“Annalys, Shiro’s bathroom is the other direction!”

“Sorry sir!” She ran the other way, her top already off, completely unconcerned with her own awkward nudity. 

He was going to instruct her on the complicated tapwork when he heard worrisome splashing from his own bathroom, as well as “Stop heating the pipes, you’re boiling me!” 

Oh, was Shiro going to pay. 

Despite quite a bit of roughhousing and more water down the room’s floor drain than necessary, all three younglings were indeed scrubbed, brushed, and dressed in under a candlemark. It was probably Adam’s most successful accomplishment since his Summoning. 

“Alright,” he said to the line of them. “Repeat the rules to me.”

“Don’t be seen,” Keith said.

Oriax rolled his eyes. “You’re going to get _seen_ , firebrains. It’s about not being noticed. Which is impossible for someone like you.”

“ _I’ve_ got a glamour. What are you gonna do, featherbreath?” 

Adam clapped. “That’s quite enough. If you don’t settle down, _none_ of us are going.”

Annalys raised her hand.

That was definitely a headache pounding at the base of his skull. “Yes, Annalys?” he asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

“I should still be able to go since I didn’t argue and since Oriax goes where I go, I command that he come with me.”

“Traitor,” Keith hissed, sticking the full length of his tongue out at her. “He started it!” 

“Accusing me for your own shortcomings?” Oriax stuck up his nose, feathers poofing around him. “Try taking responsibility for your actions, brimstone boogers.”

“ _Enough_!” 

All three snapped their mouths closed when Adam roared - literally - and shifted guiltily as he glared at them. 

“Rule number one. Annalys.”

Annalys straightened. “Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.” 

“Good. Two, Oriax?”

Oriax adjusted his glasses and looked to Annalys. At her nod he said, “Stay together at all times.”

“Correct. Three, Keith?”

“Never go where Adam can’t smell you.” He scuffed his boot along the floor. 

“And four. Have fun.” Adam smiled at them, softening like butter. 

The King’s Festival was so named because it was Alfor specifically who had started the tradition. After The Great Balancing, everyone in Belwald was in need of cheer and public goodwill, so the festival began as a way to bring people from all over the country together. It was a commonfolk’s festival, which meant it was raucous and bold and loud in a way that the High Spring Ball was not. It would be easy for the children to get lost in the crowd of thousands - but then, that was what made it the safest bet for them to attend. 

The wonder in Keith’s wide, golden eyes was worth every sacrifice and risk they were taking. Adam watched Keith watching - the jousters and their armored horses riding by, the colorful streamers, the mummers in their patchwork clothing - all of it was reflected in his slack-jawed expression. Adam pulled him back by the shoulder and snuck a quick kiss to his cheek, chuckling as Keith gagged and wiped it off. 

“Go on,” he whispered. “Have fun. Make us proud.” 

Keith grinned up at Adam. With his glamour in place, the sharp points of his fangs were missing from it. “I will. I promise.” 

Adam smiled back. “I know.”

Then Annalys tugged Keith’s wrist and they were off, dodging and weaving through crowds that never spared them a second glance. Keith easily kept pace with her even if he was half a foot shorter, using the shock of her wild red hair as a beacon. Oriax ran behind them, keeping Keith between them and away from anyone’s reach. A familiar in the crowd was unusual, but not remarkable, so most people simply gave the young Strix enough of a berth to go by. Adam had warned them that people might stare, given that Magi were somewhat discouraged from attending by unspoken bias. So far, all anyone seemed to care about was that their mugs not be jostled as they all ran by. 

Keith had a purse heavy with coins on his hip - enough for them to play or eat or buy practically anything they wanted, courtesy of Shiro. He was half-bouncing on the balls of his feet once they entered the main square. His delicate nose was overloaded with more amazing smells than he’d ever experienced, and there was music coming from nearly _everywhere._ He was ecstatic. 

“C’mon!” Annalys grinned and pointed to the vendors. “Are you gonna stare and drool, or you gonna start eating, short stuff?” 

Oriax slapped him on the back. “Let’s use that heavy purse of yours and have some fun, yeah?”

“I have,” Keith said in awe, “no idea what any of this is. There’s gotta be at least a thousand smells just in this one area alone.” 

“Well,” Annalys skipped backwards a few steps. “We’ll start with Ori’s favorite, then!” 

That led them to a booth where a very large man, so huge he seemed like he’d burst the wood on the tiny stall he was stationed in, peeled the husk off a corn cob and dipped it into a barrel of melted butter. When he handed one to Keith, the hot yellow of it ran down his hands and he had to resist the urge to lap it up. He wasn’t certain his glamour extended to his forked tongue. 

“Eat it, don’t wear it,” Oriax said, nibbling on his cob.

Keith snapped his teeth a few inches from Ori’s face. Oriax gave him a dry look and kept eating. 

The corn was fine. Buttery for sure, but it was still just corn. “Don’t they have any rats-on-a-stick for you, Ori? Why _corn_. Corn is peasant food.” 

“Some of us are peasants,” Annalys said, spitting corn into the mud as she spoke.

Oriax thwaped him on his ear. “Butter, lizard. Not all of us can be the King’s Mage’s whelp. Some of us only get butter once a year.”

Keith blinked. The thought had never occurred to him before, that something as everyday as butter would be considered special. “Oh.” 

Annalys licked the trail of butter up her arm and grinned with shining lips. “Bet you taste like butter,” she said, pressing close to Oriax.

“That’s what you said last Mid Summer. I taste the same as I did last year.”

Pouting and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Annalys took another bite of corn. When she spoke again it was with her mouth full. “You’re not sexy.”

“Gross.” Keith wrinkled his nose. “We have a lot to eat and I can’t lose my appetite.” 

“Someday you’ll get your true appetite and you won’t think it’s gross anymore.” Annalys didn’t stop making moon-eyes at Oriax and Keith shifted uncomfortably as he ate his corn. Even worse was Oriax’s huge eyes staring dumbly back. The one drawback to his new friends was times like these. 

“Kiss her or peck at her or clean her feathers or whatever you do so we can get more food.” Keith was already moving towards the next booth - something that promised red meat of some variety, and some sort of dough stuffed with cheese. Somewhere behind him, Ori and Anny were talking together in close murmurs, and Keith rolled his eyes. If he had to listen to any more of their mushy, lovey nonsense, he’d throw up right on their - 

His nose twitched. A particular scent had threaded itself through the grease and spice of the food stands - something cleaner. Fresh. Water, cool and unsalted, not like the ocean spray he sometimes caught from the harbor. This was an earthier, grassier smell. Lilypads. Ponds. 

The water mage. 

Instantly, Keith froze. His whole body seized, even as he wanted to fly off in every direction just to chase that thread of aquamarine. He didn’t even realize he was running until he was halfway to the other side of the square, the sound of Annalys and Oriax shouting after him a dim hum in the back of his mind. Sniffing the air, he tracked the scent forward, pushing upstream against the crowds, slithering through the cracks between people until it got stronger, stronger still, so close that he had to be right around the next - 

Keith stopped. Ahead, there was a vendor calling out as he waved his wares in the air - fresh frogs, breaded and fried, you pick them, we fry them. There were buckets all around the stall with mesh lids, the water inside sloshing as the frogs jumped and hit the grating as they tried to escape. 

He winced, disturbed and disappointed in equal measure. 

Annalys caught up to him first, the gold of her brows knotted in anger. “Keith! You can’t just take off like that, _cha_ ? Adam’d have our hides _twice_ if we lost you. What’s so damn important that it couldn’t wait two seconds for us to walk together?” 

“I…” He felt stupid and didn’t know how to explain it to them. ‘I smelled pond water so I thought it might be a boy I want to meet?’ It sounded even dumber when he tried to put it into words, so he waved at the barrels. “I feel bad for them. Seems wrong to trap them like that before you kill ‘em.” It wasn’t a lie. Even as a predator, he didn’t like to see animals caged. 

"It's the way of humans," Oriax said in his voice that made Keith feel stupid. The tone always sounded like he was explaining something Keith should have already understood. 

"You know," Annalys said, licking her shiny fingers, "someone ought to let them out. Only ones be hurt by it would be the flies and no one cares for them." She was looking at Keith with that gleam that always promised trouble. 

"It's really the fault of the vendor, keeping them in such fragile cages." Oriax rubbed his chin as he surveyed the stall. "It would only take a nudge for them all to topple. It would be wise to learn such a lesson sooner rather than later." 

Keith raised an eyebrow, trying not to smile. “Yeah...shame we don’t know anybody with, say, the kind of magic that knocks things over and is completely invisible.” 

She shrugged innocently. “I dunno what you’re talking about, little lizard. Not a body around here with that kind of-” A vague gesture of her hands, and Keith heard the tell-tale _whoomp_ of her energy magic going off. There was a clatter and the gush of water followed by a beat of confused stillness. Then people started screaming, ornamented by the sound of dozens of happy croaks. 

Her grin was wicked as Keith started laughing. “Let’s go. There’s axe-throwing down the hill and I wanna show up Ori this year.” 

"You'll never do it. Your human eyes and slow muscles are just physically incapable of beating me." 

Annalys tackled him, locking him in her arm. "You're just a chicken. C'mon Keith, let's show this bird what slow muscles we have." She dragged Oriax by the neck and Keith laughed harder as they made their way to the games. 

She did not beat Oriax, and neither did Keith - at least not when it came to axe-throwing. Which was ridiculous, Keith thought, until Annalys pointed out the fact that Oriax’s arms were also his wings so of course they were strong. “But one day,” she threatened, wagging a finger in Oriax’s face, and spluttering into reddened silence when he simply smiled and gave it a kiss. 

Keith had them both beat at racing, but Annalys won knife throwing and archery by a landslide - courtesy, she said, of years of training to shoot invisible energy. “Gotta know where you’re throwing if you can’t see what’s doing the colliding,” she’d explained, but Keith didn’t care. She gave him the knife she won either way, so he was content. 

They were about to head over to the stages to see what sort of music was playing when something snagged Keith’s attention. First it was a flash of chestnut brown hair, but something made him linger long enough to watch the figure turn around. The bright blue eyes, however, made his steps falter. 

It was him - really, this time. It had to be. No one else had eyes that blue. Keith took a step forward. 

Then he paused, considering. How unlikely of a combination was brown hair and blue eyes? Probably not that uncommon, and Annalys would have his tail if he went running off again. 

It was some other boy, he told himself. _If it was him, I’d smell him._

Keith wished he believed that. 

The music pulled his attention back to the stage. In the press of the crowd he saw Annalys and Oriax link hands. _Dangerous._ Keith tried to wiggle behind them to block the sight from prying eyes. As soon as the song was over, Keith nudged them. "Stop it, you're going to get us in trouble with your mushy stuff." 

"It's fine, little lizard. No one is paying attention to us." Annalys linked her hand in Keith's. "There, now we're all just friends." 

Oriax choked a protest, but Annalys began dragging them away from the stage. "It's too hot, let's find that hair shop. They were selling braids and flowers for a coin. I want my hair off my neck." 

“Hair shop?” Keith and Oriax echoed in twin tones of confusion and disgust. 

The shop was closer to the games than the stage and it took them a while to make it through the crowd to the little old woman and her granddaughter. 

The younger of the two took one look at Keith’s long, unruly fall of black hair and squealed in delight. Keith shot Annalys a glare as he was dragged away to be tortured, eyes narrowing at her coy little finger wave. 

Annalys was a whole situation. She usually was when it came to anything with her hair. The comb snapped in half with only one side of her head done. The grandmother apologized, but Annalys couldn't care less when Oriax stared at her and mumbled, "Such a beautiful bird." 

That had both of them blushing to the point that Keith felt sorry for everyone in the room. 

Three snapped combs and a lot of painful hair tugging later, Annalys had what looked to Keith like a bird’s nest dotted with flowers hanging at the nape of her neck. Keith had managed to scramble away with a regular plait sewn in a loop that looked like a sticky bun, but he had not escaped the flowers. An entire crown of them circled his head and made his nose itch. When Annalys caught Oriax looking a little envious, she stole a flower from Keith’s crown and tucked it into the feather-fall that made up his “hair.” He even _giggled,_ of all the nauseating things, and pushed his glasses further up his nose. 

“Are you happy now?” Keith asked, arms crossed. 

Annalys looked over her shoulder at him and winked. “More than appeased. You look absolutely lovely.” 

The granddaughter who did Keith’s hair, more or less his age, smiled shyly and tucked a curl behind her ear. “You look like a prince.” 

Keith wanted to wrinkle his nose, but Shiro had taught him better than that. He bowed and took her hand, kissing the knuckles. “You’re too kind,” he lied. 

The girl was positively gobsmacked. Annalys laughed about it all the way down to the jousters. 

“You shattered her, Keith,” she crowed. “Poor lass will never love again.” 

He scowled. “I didn’t do anything! I just did what I’m s’posed to!” 

Oriax laughed and slapped him on his back. “There are many things you are, dear brimstone breath, but empathetic isn’t one of them. You wouldn’t be able to spot love if it summoned you itself.”

“That’s not true!” Keith roared, and he felt the flames threatening to burst from his throat. “I know exactly what it looks like and I’ll know it the...minute... I -” 

The words turned to smoke in his mouth and his eyes widened. 

Over Oriax’s shoulder, he caught a glimpse of blue eyes and brown hair before the boy turned and entered a mirror maze. Keith was running before he could fully process because it _was_ him, it _was_ the water mage. Keith had his glamour, there was no reason they couldn’t finally, finally - 

He ignored the shouts behind him and followed the green flutter of the boy’s cape as it rounded a corner, but he pulled up short when he came face to face with several versions of himself. He dimly registered the flowers, the unfamiliar plait, but the warped person in front of him was _not_ blue eyed so he tried another corner. 

Again and again he turned corners, chased down duplicate hallways, all while watching glimpses of the boy scatter off in different directions and reflections of his own face mirrored back at him with increasing distress. 

Then, on a lucky pivot, he managed to reach out and grab a handful of green cloak. Keith yanked. “Hey!” The boy turned and stared at him. _Who,_ Keith thought. The eyes weren’t right and they narrowed at Keith but why would they - 

“ _James_!”

The boy’s head snapped up and looked past Keith. From behind him, Keith heard the warp of Annalys’ magic. He had enough time to turn back and open his mouth to warn the boy before he felt something powerful pummel his chest and knock the wind from his lungs. He watched himself fly through the air in a dozen angles before his head cracked against his own reflection and the world shattered. 

~🍄~

Spring

The first exceptionally warm day of the season, Lance decided that staying cooped up in the apothecary was simply not going to be an option. Keith obviously longed to be out in the sunshine from the way he kept looking out the tower’s thin window, and even Lance, who could spend hours in his little lab and never know what time it was, found himself eager for some fresh air. 

Keith was corking bottles very carefully, the twin prongs of his forked tongue sticking out between his lips - an unconscious habit that Lance found endearing. He’d managed to almost double his production time, and was currently training himself to go beyond his best record so far. His dragon, it turned out, was fiercely competitive, even if the opponent was just himself. Lance had learned to take shameless advantage of that whenever Keith became restless with the drudgery of potion life. 

They’d been doing well. Maybe they could afford to shake the routine a bit. Just for the day. 

Lance cleared his throat. 

Keith looked up immediately. “Yes, Master?” 

"What are the properties of Confliberries and in what major potions are they used for Highmount exports?" 

His dragon blinked and set his bottle down. “Confliberries are named because they have combustive properties when mixed with certain other ingredients. They are non-lethal if consumed but will cause intense cramping and vomiting. Most often, they are used in sealants to immediately bind other ingredients to a surface area or as a reactive agent for instantly sanitizing water for drinking or cooking while on the road.” 

That was...impressive. Lance smiled but tried to keep it small and not give too much away. "Good. And Mist Thistle, what about it?” 

Keith frowned. “I...um.” He looked at the racks of corked bottles as if he might be able to find the answer there, and when they did not prove helpful, his brow furrowed deeper. “...I…” 

“Hmm. It doesn’t sound like you’ve been studying. I bet even with your herb guide you wouldn’t be able to tell a Mist Thistle from an Ashblade.” Lance turned around and waited for the inevitable to happen behind him as he pretended to go back to work.

“Of course I’ve been studying!” Keith stood so suddenly Lance could hear the stool slide and teeter. “You just asked me one of the most obscure! I absolutely could - blindfolded, once I smelled one!” 

“I’m not sure you could,” Lance almost sang. “You are obviously memorizing in alphabetical order in your text and you haven't made it to M. There’s no way you’d be able to, say, go to the garden and find me a Mist Thistle only using your book.”

“Well, if I am, I at least know what an Ashblade is,” Keith snapped back, circling around in front of Lance’s workstation and slamming his palms down on the table. “Give me a time limit. I’ll find them.” 

Lance put down the ingredients he was fiddling with and tried to hide his smirk as he faced Keith. “How do I know you won’t ask the poor gardener which plant is which? If you’re serious about finding it, then you won’t mind me watching.”

“Of course I’m serious.” Keith huffed and crossed his arms, his tail moving back and forth in irritation. “Watch all you like, it won’t take five minutes.” 

"I half believe you with how confidently you say it." Lance stretched and gestured to the door. It was a good thing he'd discovered this trick or he wasn't sure how he'd get the restless dragon to learn. "Fetch lunch from the kitchens. We'll eat in the garden after you - _if_ you - find the Mist Thistle.”

Keith was already opening the door and had made it down two stairs before he remembered to double back and hastily bow. “Yes Master.” Then the door slammed behind him. 

Lance collected a few odds and ends to busy himself with. It probably wouldn't take Keith more than the snap of his fingers to find the thistle, but he planned to have them spend the better part of the day enjoying the nice weather. He double checked that nothing was out of place and would turn into a disaster by the time they made it back before shutting the door. He was slow to descend the stairs, hoping that Keith was tapping his foot at the bottom. A little teasing never hurt. 

Keith was very quickly back at the base of the tower to meet Lance with a larger basket than usual. 

"Wow. Did you tell them that we had a whole party?" Lance stood on his tiptoes to try and see into the basket. "Or are we inviting the whole Magerium?" ”

“Funny.” Keith rolled his eyes. “They were making those blackberry pies you love and I thought they wouldn’t miss one. But I’m happy to put it back.” 

Lance's stomach growled in response. "No. No," he said hastily, "You did perfect. Thank you." 

Keith smirked and raised a satisfied eyebrow. “As I thought. Lead the way.” 

_Cocky dragon._ Lance bumped his hip as he strode past. "We'll see if you can earn the same kind of praise in the garden." 

As fired up as he was, Keith was very particular about staying behind Lance and walking with elegant purpose. No matter how Lance slowed or changed his pace, Keith always managed to accommodate and stay behind. It brought Lance nothing but joy to hear the muffled sigh when he slowed and the mumbled _finally_ when he sped up. Lance was holding back laughter by the time they made it to the garden. 

The garden was surprisingly deserted for being such a warm day, but then, there were no other potion masters at Lance’s level, and none of the higher levels fetched their own ingredients. It left the wide splay of it open and private to them, which was a nice change. The walls were high and many of the bushes were starting to flower. The air smelled sweet and minty under the high sun of midday. 

Lance paused in the entrance right under a patch of sun and took a deep breath. He'd always loved the garden. It held nothing but warm memories of learning from the, now passed, old gardener. He missed his quiet talks about potions and magic behind the protection of large walls. James and his friends never found him here in all the years he'd lived at the Magerium. 

With a content groan as his back popped, he turned to Keith. "Mist Thistle, five minutes. Any mistakes brought to me penalize you thirty seconds. Think you can do it?" 

Keith already had his guide out. “Consider it done.” He handed the basket over in such a hurry, that for Keith, he might as well have shoved it. 

Lance had to grab it with both hands. Sometimes he forgot how strong Keith was. Maybe he could talk to someone about joining the knights during their morning training. "Five minutes. Go."

Instead of taking off, Keith plopped himself down in the dewy grass and began turning pages. They fluttered as he skimmed all the way to M, eyes darting back and forth as he scanned for what he needed. It was clear when he found the correct entry; his gaze focused in and he almost glared at the page as he read. Then he shivered to his toes and unfolded into his primal form, loping off across the grounds like a puppy who still didn’t have total control over his limbs. Occasionally, Lance could glimpse his tail pointing up over the line of hedges or his head as he lifted his long neck to sniff the air. 

While Keith hunted, Lance found a spot for lunch among the rose bushes. Bumbling bees worked hard around the prized blossoms and it only made Lance feel lazier. Keith, always the gold star familiar, had packed a blanket into the basket. 

He spread the hand-embroidered quilt over the ground. It was small and stained in a few places. One corner looked like mice had nibbled out the fluffing, but it would be perfect for two. 

Today's lunch was roast pig, by the smell of it, with cheese and soft buns. There was a bowl of salad with an entire tomato thrown on top. Lance giggled to himself. Ever since Lance had complained about missing the vegetables of his hometown that were served with every meal, unlike castle life that enjoyed rich meat and pastries, Keith had tried his hand at creating salads. It was...getting better. 

By the time he'd unloaded everything but the pie, Keith bounded over to him, green in his mouth. It trailed a line of mist behind him, marking his path. 

He shifted to human so quickly, he still had the thistle between his teeth. Spitting it on the ground in front of Lance, he looked up for approval. “How much time?” 

"Four minutes just about." Lance picked up the thistle, roots intact. "Minus points for extraction. Altogether, not bad. You can have your point back if you can tell me the proper harvesting technique.” 

Keith huffed and sat down heavily on the blanket. “That’s a dirty trick question and you know it. If you don’t want the mist to keep spreading, you have to take the roots and all. If you just want the thistle, you can pinch the bulb off and seal the stem with its own juice but _you_ said ‘mist thistle’ which implies the whole thing.” 

All of that from less than a minute of reading his primer. "You're doing so well. I'm proud of you, Keith." Lance handed over a slice of pork. "I think you earned a wing brushing with the good brush." 

That was a lot of good for his familiar to process at once, it seemed. Keith’s words had to catch up with his smile, which in turn had to catch up with his wagging tail. “Thank you, Master. I’m glad you’re pleased. I told you I could do it in under five minutes.” 

Lance bit back his grin. Sometimes Keith was too cute. "Clear out the mist and then we'll eat." 

Obediently, Keith stood and faced away from Lance. He beat his wings, gaining traction until the mist swirled in the air like stirred soup before blowing away. He turned and sat back down, his hair a little wilder for the act, but his face flushed with sunshine and the chance for a little exercise. 

Lance took a bite of his pork and smiled with grease-stained lips at Keith. "Tomorrow you'll make something with the Mist Thistle. We wouldn't want to waste it. But for now, dig in.”

“Yes, Master.” 

Keith settled himself and started carving into a bun with one claw so that he could fill it with meat and cheese. He eyed the untouched salad and looked back to Lance with his eyebrows raised in question. 

Lance followed his eyes. That stupid salad was the cutest thing, but if he told Keith that, his feelings would be hurt. "I need something to cleanse my mouth after all the oil." Somehow he'd have to figure out how to cut the tomato without Keith feeling hurt. Maybe he'd just eat it like an apple. 

“Oh, of course.” Keith rummaged in the bag he carried most everywhere, pulling out two sloshing wineskins. “I didn’t have room in the basket. Here.” 

Well, he’d been referring to the lettuce, but this was just as good. “You sure came prepared.” It wasn’t like Lance had planned to have a picnic or even planned any kind of outing today, yet Keith had packed everything they’d needed at the drop of a hat. It was...nice. Reliable in a way he hadn’t been able to rely on anyone for years. He took the skin and drank the sweet wine inside. Today couldn’t get any more relaxing. The gentle breeze and the smell of roses, an intimate lunch for two, and sweet wine to sip on? It was perfect. “After this would you like to take a walk? I was thinking of trying to find a new scavenging place in the forest. Our current one needs to rest and regrow.”

Keith’s ears pricked forward in interest. “I thought you’d want to go back to the tower. You hate leaving in the middle of an order.” His eyes narrowed. “What’s the catch? Are we going after something horrible and you’re trying to sweeten me up first?” 

Lance almost choked on his wine. Coughing and sputtering, he pounded on his chest. 

Frowning, Keith patted him helpfully on the back. 

“Refreshing gathering spots is just as important and the order is almost done anyways. Can’t your Master take it easy now and then?”

One thick eyebrow raised in challenge. “I don’t know, _can_ you?”

Chuckling, Lance took another swig of wine to calm his throat. “Probably not, but I can try.”

“Heh.” 

They ate mostly in silence - not tense, but comfortable in the way that comes with familiarity. They were content not to talk, just to be, and that counted for a huge step forward in Lance’s opinion. In their earliest days, Keith was hesitant to even eat before him or in front of him, and he never went to sleep until Lance was in bed. This was nothing like that, and it was such a relief. 

After they’d eaten and Keith was wiping down their utensils with a cloth to pack back up, he glanced down into his sack with a quick “Oh!” 

Digging around, he produced a small brown parcel that he passed over to Lance. “I grabbed you something else while I was in the kitchen,” he said, fighting back a smile. 

Lance took it with trepidation. “I’m not sure I could eat another nibble,” he said, peeking into the parcel. One whiff had Lance staring open-mouthed at Keith. “How did you get this?”

It was tea, loose-leaf and rich-smelling, and he knew without a doubt it was the blend only given to King Alfor himself. 

Keith shrugged a shoulder. “I was in there anyway, no reason not to take some. And besides, I thought-” He cut himself off, looking suddenly self-conscious. His eyes flicked over to the clover growing alongside their picnic blanket. “I, um. Just thought you’d like it. Is all.”

A present. Ill gotten, but still. The King’s blend tea with only the finest herbs. He’d never even tried it; the ingredients alone were worth more than his life. Just this once, he’d keep it. “I like it,” he confessed, still staring down into the bag. He memorized each leaf and the proportions. Later he’d measure it out and maybe, if he was lucky, he could make it for himself.

That got Keith smiling at him again. “Yeah? I can get some whenever you like. It’s in barrels; they’ll never know it’s missing.” 

“Let’s keep the thieving to a minimum. This is for the King only; you could be beheaded, in all technicality, for stealing from the King.” Lance waved off Keith’s skeptical face. “But now that you’ve gotten me a sample, I can make it for us. We’d just have to find the ingredients.”

Keith scoffed. “If it’s all that rare and fancy, I probably have to steal those too. Unless they’re just lying about it being rare and fancy to make the King feel good about himself.”

Lance held up a star shaped herb. “This is what makes it so expensive. It can’t even be found in Highmount. The rest are rare but I could find them fairly easily.” He replaced the star anise with a flat brittle leaf. “This is just up that mountain, about a day’s walk. It would be difficult to collect everything on my own, but I’m not on my own anymore, am I? And without the star anise it would probably still taste good.”

“So let’s go.”

“Right now?” Lance asked, looking up from the leaf in surprise. He thought maybe in the Summer before MidSummer festival on the way home, but _now?_

He shrugged. “You said the order’s almost finished. Why don’t we plan to take a few days off and go herb gathering? They don’t need to know it’s just so we can manufacture a contraband version of the King’s Blend. Besides, you said yourself that we have to go looking for stuff in new places.” 

The usual gathering spot really was becoming barren and it _was_ best to let gathering spots rest. He hadn’t been lying about that. “I don’t have any of my tools. And we don’t have food or supplies or-” he cut himself off. With flight it wouldn’t be months hiking up mountains and drying plants. They could probably bring them home fresh to dry in the apothecary, and in less than half the time, at that. “Okay.”

Keith brightened, ears pricking up. “...Really? Just like that?” 

Lance nodded. “Just like that. We’d have to finish today’s order. I’ll put in a stop and let them know I’m going gathering, but, yes. We can go.”

He didn’t get the instant, enthusiastic response he’d been anticipating. Instead, Keith looked - not unhappy, per se. Contemplative. 

“I’ve never really been off the castle grounds. I’ve never been outside of Highmount.” 

“Not even once? Surly Shiro had to have taken you on some journeys as King’s Mage.”

Keith frowned at him. “Before you, the only other people to know I exist were Annalys and Oriax, two of Shiro’s students. And only because they wanted me to have someone remotely close to my age to speak to. I couldn’t go anywhere because we couldn’t risk me being seen.” 

“Well.” Lance took a deep breath and stood up, holding out his hand “Time to see the world, High Magic Keith d’This Castle.” 

Keith took it and let himself be dragged up with a big smile. “Can’t wait.” 

"That means you have to finish corking." Lance nudged him with his hip. 

“Bet I finish corking before you finish whatever you’re doing.” Keith bumped him back, then watched in horror as Lance went crashing back on his rear. “Oh - shit - I’m sorry, I didn’t, uh - are you okay?” 

Oh-ho, two could play at that game. Lance smirked up at Keith. It was time to test out if his exercising was working. He launched himself at Keith, tackling him to the ground. "I'll get you for that," he said, laughter chasing his words. 

His dragon gave a very undragonlike squeak as they rolled a few times. Keith froze out of complete surprise for a few seconds before his eyebrows narrowed and he grinned, showing off the points of his fangs before shoving Lance off and grappling for his tunic. 

Keith was bigger and stronger, but he wasn't using any of his power and Lance easily wiggled away from the grip. They came together again, wrestling for dominance. Lance managed to roll him, both laughing as Lance came out on top and pinned Keith. He only had a moment to enjoy his victory before Keith flipped them. 

Pink petals and small leaves stuck in Keith's hair. A few rained down onto Lance, tickling his face. The spring flowers all around them, disturbed by their wrestling match, danced in the light breeze. From his position on top, the spill of Keith’s dark hair formed a sort of intimate curtain and his head and horns were haloed by sunlight. He was laughing, breathless and husky, eyes scrunched up in pleasure. When they opened and looked down on Lance, his smile slackened and his lashes fluttered, then narrowed. 

Lance had to ball his fists to keep from plucking out the petals. The sun was Spring-warm, but Keith was all heat and Summer. He opened his mouth to say- What? He wasn't sure. It felt like words would shatter this moment in half, but it also felt like words were his only defense before something inside him snapped. 

“You-” Keith’s voice cracked and he licked his lips. “You’ve got grass in your hair.” The way he said it, it became secret and soft, something just for them. 

No; Lance had been wrong. The words shattered nothing. Instead, they sunk inside him and buried deep into his heart. "So do you," he said, voice cresting over his lips, soft as a shadow. The same shadow that was cast over him by Keith. 

“We should get up,” Keith said - whispered, really. His eyes were moving over Lance’s face as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to look, but they never looked away. One hand came to hover over Lance’s hair before barely, just barely, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. 

Lance wanted to inhale, exhale, and hold his breath all at once. There was something he was supposed to do. Something he was missing about this moment and only staying here would he discover what that something was. His heart hitched and raced, startled like a deer during a hunt. "Get up. Yes.” It felt like a spell was holding him in place. Even if he wanted to he couldn’t escape the gold of Keith’s eyes. He swallowed. “We-" 

A high-pitched scream startled them both. In the brief pocket of panic, Lance shot forward just as Keith turned his head and they collided with a crack. Keith hissed a little and scrambled to his feet, offering a hand to help Lance up. He took it, rubbing the bump forming on his forehead. 

The scream continued unbroken and Keith sniffed the air, scowling. “What in all hells…” He sniffed again, then looked at Lance. “Something’s bleeding.” 

Lance clamped his hands over his ears and scanned the garden. Not for the noise, but to take stock of the plants. “Find it,” he commanded. 

If Lance was back at his apothecary, he’d be able to whip up a blood mending salve with his eyes closed. But, by the sounds of the screams, there was no time to run back. 

Trusting Keith to find whoever was crying in pain, he concentrated on what he’d need. Three simple ingredients. He took a deep breath. Rose petals. He plucked a few leaves and blossoms from the rose bush that had been their picnic companion as he whispered a quick apology to the King. Horsetail. Lance ran to the corner of the garden and snapped off the thick stems growing in lines around the outer edges of the wall. Finally, wintergreens. That would be the most difficult since they were in high spring.

Desperate, he ran to the winter side, where all the bushes and flowers withered in the heat of spring. Rifling through their barren stems, he found one sad plant still trying to cling to life. He ripped up the entire thing and clutched all his precious plants in his arms. Turning and scanning the garden, he called out, “Keith!” Worry edged at his stomach; the yelling hadn’t ceased. He’d thought if Keith had found the person that they’d stop crying. 

“Over here!” Keith called back, raising his tail for Lance to find him. 

Stumbling over a few loose stones in the garden path, he sprinted to the waving red tail. 

When Lance was close enough, Keith stepped aside to show Lance the source of the screaming, annoyance twisting his mouth into a scowl. “It’s just a rabbit,” he said dismissively. “Looks like whatever this plant is tried to eat it or something. Its leg’s bleeding.”

“Rocks.” He’d forgotten to grab rocks and his arms were full. Lance knelt down by the trembling bunny. The herbs and flowers fell from his arms and he began to sort them. When Keith didn’t move, Lance turned to him, face serious. “Two rocks, to grind with, now.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t we just mercy kill it and have it for supper? Seems like a lot of trouble to go through for a dumb rabbit.”

Lance didn’t have time for this. The bunny was bleeding faster and he was moving _so slow_ . He dug his fingers under one of the stones in the path and tugged. It didn’t budge. Sitting back on his heels, he used his full body weight to dislodge the stone. It lifted enough to trip someone walking by. If he could get just _one_ up then he could use it against another.

“Okay,” Keith said quietly, kneeling down next to Lance and gently pushing him back by the shoulder. “Alright. Stop. Let me.” 

His claws unsheathed fully and he dug under the stone, easily pulling it from the packed soil. Passing it over to Lance, he scanned around and found another of decent size that was equally simple to wrestle from the well-trodden dirt of the path. Handing this over as well, Keith sat down next to Lance, face now serious and imploring. “What else do you need?” 

“Strip the horsetail and the petals. I need the leaves first.”

Without further protest, Keith did as he was told.

It was crude and inefficient and Lance could feel the time melt away along with the bunny’s life. Still, he was able to grind the leaves into a pulp using a bit of water to make a paste. Once the petals and horsetail were free from their confines, he ground those in too. By the time the wintergreens were mixed in, his brain was screaming that it was too late. 

The rabbit’s screams had shifted into tiny mewls of pain. Scooping up the thick poultice, Lance realized he was shaking. Steeling his nerves and careful to not get bitten, Lance held the bunny’s mouth shut with gentle pressure as he spread the poultice. The bleeding stopped almost immediately, scabbing over the wound. A few soft words and the skin of the leg zipped together, healing in a crude line. Lance stroked his thumb over the bunny’s cheek and it fell asleep. 

As soon as its eyes were closed, Lance fell out of the strange trance he’d been in. The world widened from the pinpoint of saving the rabbit, expanding outward. He became aware of the sun beating down on him from the pastel blue of the sky, plants and the hard earth of the garden forming under him. Keith appeared at his side, and finally, the ache of his own body as he hunched over the sleeping rabbit. Lance turned to Keith as if the dragon had been waiting for the diagnosis. “It’ll be fine.”

Keith was quiet, sitting back on his calves and looking at the rise and fall of the rabbit’s chest. He watched it breathe for a few moments while Lance gathered himself, his wings and tail tucked close to his body. 

Lance looked at the mess they’d made. “We should put the stones back.”

“You’re...a good mage.” Keith’s voice was soft, his attention on the ground in front of him. “A very good mage.” 

At the look on his familiar’s face, Lance decided that patching up the garden could wait. He sat cross legged, pulling the rabbit into his lap and stroking its fur. “I’m not a good anything,” he said, tilting his head to consider Keith. “No one would see a hurt creature and let it bleed to death. I’m just lucky that it happened here, where there were ingredients to heal it.”

“I would have.” Keith looked up at him. “I think you overestimate how much others care, and underestimate how much you do. Not everyone would know what it took to heal, which you did, and then to have the quick thinking to execute it…it. It’s just.” He sighed, frustrated with his own inability to express what he wanted. “I’m trying to say that it’s impressive.” 

“Mercy comes with many faces,” Lance said, reaching out to run his thumb over Keith's cheekbone like he had the rabbit. It was feather light and timid. “If there had been no way to save it, then killing it would’ve been a service.”

“I’m not trying to talk about me!” Keith huffed even as he leaned into the touch. 

Lance smirked. Now that the crisis was over, the world seemed brighter and sweeter. “I guess you’re not.” He let his hand fall back to the rabbit in his lap and his grin grew. “Tell me how to make a blood mending salve and I’ll let you off the hook for disobeying me about the rocks.”

He could only laugh at Keith’s long, theatrical groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to our beta: Party Rat Is Our New God  
> Please, everyone, take a moment to look at the beauty that is this picture by [Lyn Patrick](https://twitter.com/GrayRendering)!!! Thank you so much for this amazing art, the attention to detail just kills us both and then brings us back to life, we can't shower you in enough praise ❤️❤️❤️❤️
> 
> Sail: AO3 just did a kudos purge, and that knocked this fic down almost 100 kudos, so, if you can try and hit that kudos button again we'd be super grateful <3 Please stay safe and I hope this fic brings a little joy to your quarantine life. 
> 
> Autumn: Sorry this took an extra long time. Quarantine and the ennui of being trapped inside during a string of cloudy, rainy days has a way of sapping creative energy. This, I think, is the last slow, more atmospheric chapter before Stuff Starts To Happen, so hopefully that's enough of an impetus to get these updates out on time. Thank you so much for the feedback and love we're continuing to receive. It helps so much to know that there are people waiting, and keeps me pushing through.
> 
> If you follow us on twitter, you'll know we're doing a spring event! two fics at the same time, alternating days. As soon as Dragons Book 1 is done, we'll be posting both. That's twice the things to read every week!! If you want more cool updates like that just click here: [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what is more interesting than staring out the window during quarantine? Our Twitters! [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

~🍄~

Spring

Keith had been hauling crates of bottles up and down the tower stairs for hours now and he was _tired_ \- or so he’d complained to Lance nearly every time he showed up to grab another load _._ Not physically, of course, he was a dragon, obviously, he could climb stairs all day and still be fit to fly, but it was _boring_. Even sweeping, he griped, had been better than this.

So, yes - his familiar was in a particularly grumpy mood as he set the fourteenth crate down on the floor of the laboratory, the sound of it making Lance jump and send him a glare over his shoulder. Keith answered by sticking his tongue out. “Think this is enough bottles yet, or do I need to go heat some sand? Really dedicate myself to glass blowing?”

“If you did, it would be a huge help. We could have the bottles already up here.” 

Keith scoffed, not getting the argument he wanted. 

Lance cut and sorted dried rinds, stacking them in neat piles. The cramped space was even worse now that it was full of crates, but there was a deadline to fulfill and sacrifices had to be made. Such as personal space. “Can you get the siphon ready? I wanna get this delivered as soon as I finish.”

Keith did as he was told, grumbling as the rubbery tube became entangled around his legs. He hated being up in the tiny, airless apothecary on the best of days, but the heat of the late spring sun and Lance’s ever-bubbling cauldrons made it stuffy, even for him. “What is this nasty junk? You didn’t even tell me what you’re making, but Elder Trevaine’s seneschal was sure interested in grilling me about its completion. _While_ I was holding boxes.” With an annoyed grunt, he finally tugged the tube free and affixed one end to the weird, curling glass contraption that Lance used to bottle his work. “I fucking hate that guy.” 

“You shouldn’t say that. What if someone overhears you?”

“Who in all hells would ever hear us up here? This is _the_ most isolated tower in the entire castle, and I spent 20 years in one without anyone knowing I exist. And besides, what would they do? Collar me again?” 

Lance poured the rinds into the cauldron and stirred them, watching the color change. "They might- Hey, watch it.” A crate of bottles tilted precariously from its stack.

"So, what is this stuff anyway?" Keith righted the bottles, settling them more securely on top of another crate of bottles, and then hoisted himself up to sit on yet another crate of bottles. 

“It’s a disinfectant. The main stores are running low."

“Why don’t they just ask for this in jugs? Why so many little bottles? If it’s a disinfectant, don’t you just pour it on the floor and scrub? Corking bottles takes forever and is so fiddly.” 

“Pour it on the - I’m not making _floor cleaner._ I’m making disinfectant for cuts and sores. It's the base component for almost everything the apothecary makes, but it’s basic magic, so of course it’s on me.” Lance sighed and motioned to the cauldron. “Let’s hook this up to the siphon. And by us, I mean you.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Keith said, but hopped down and took one end of the tube, working as Lance had shown him to set the whole contraption up. “If he thinks this is basic, let _him_ wrestle the stretchy tube so that this very hot liquid goes on a merry little journey through the twisty glass for a veerrryy specific amount of time, in an equally specific amount of turns, until it finds a new home in one of the umpteenfucketythousand bottles I hand-delivered to the top of this very, very high tower. Oh, wait, he can’t - because he’s so old he’d _die on the way up_.”

“More bottling, less whining.” Lance turned away to begin extracting his next ingredient, but he knew Keith had caught him smiling. 

It took an hour to fill all the bottles and stack them back up with Keith working the clamp while Lance worked the nozzle. Eventually, they had hundreds of shining bottles full and stacked, ready to be capped. 

“You did a good job. You’ve improved.”

Keith snorted. “Bottle filling. One of my many skills.” He dragged the huge burlap sack full of loose corks from its place in the corner and opened it between them. “I’ll do this. You start whatever’s next.” 

Lance stretched, his back popping in several places. “Who’s in charge here? Sometimes I’m not sure.” Lance patted his chest and his apron. “Where’s my glasses? The ones with the gold frames?”

Keith abandoned his seat to stand in front of him, eying Lance up and down. Keith, though a grown adult by human standards, was still very much a juvenile of a dragon. As such, he’d gained at least an inch of height in the time since Lance had summoned him, and he could look his master dead in the eyes now. 

Which is exactly what he did, yellow eyes crinkling in an amused smirk as he plucked the glasses from the top of Lance’s head and slid them onto his face. 

“I’ve been waiting hours for you to forget about those just so I could do that.”

“Why are you like this?” Lance rolled his eyes with a smile. He went back to his table and picked up the glittering powder he’d been ignoring until this point. Without the glasses, the dusk silt looked like dirt, but with them, he could see its magical properties. He measured out a few grams and put them in individual paper packets, whispering incantations until the powder activated and glowed blue. He carefully moved all but one packet to a container for safe keeping and bent over to work on the one left. He grabbed a feather quill from the drawer and scribbled an equation on a loose piece of parchment. Chewing on the end, he finished the equation with a flourish and double then triple checked his notes.

Holding his breath, he leaned in close, taking a vile of scorpion venom and dropping a single drop onto the glowing powder. It hissed and snapped before settling into a natural brown sand. One down.

He folded up the packet and sealed it, then moved on to the next one. Packet after packet, he slowly filled the order. It was nasty stuff; just one misstep and he’d be magicless and Keith would have to rush him to a healer. This was his chance, though. If he did it right, he might be able to win some favor back with the Elders.

In the other corner of the room, Keith had finished about thirty of the hundred bottles designated for delivery that evening - a task that would have taken Lance until well after twilight. Where Lance would have to boil and cool the bottles to both sterilize and seal them, Keith could do both with his breath. All he needed to do was nestle them into the crate to cool in place. It was mind-numbing, but it could have been worse. Still, even for a Northern Red, breathing too much hot air for too long made him seriously thirsty. 

“Hey,” Keith piped up, and then as an afterthought, “Master. Do we still have cider up here?” 

“We should have some left, over there.” Lance pointed towards the corner where they stored most of his nonperishable ingredients and a few necessities. He was so concerned with the packet in front of him, he didn’t watch where his arm was going. He clipped the corner and the box tipped precariously on the edge of the table. “No!” he gasped and fumbled. Abandoning the Poisoned Dusk, he grabbed at the box, trying to save his work. In slow motion he watched each of the packets of silt fall. The powder puffed up in clouds of glittering smoke.

Immediately, Keith started coughing, which created a loop of discomfort as each breath brought more into his lungs. “ _Augh_ ,” he complained between watery hacking. “What _is_ this stuff? Ugh, it _burns_!” 

“No. No, no, no, no.” Lance tried in vain to sweep the powder back into the paper. “Expensive, that’s what it is. Stop breathing it.”

“Gladly!” Keith snapped, backpedaling to the other end of the tower in his hurry to get away from it. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes in an effort to quell the itchiness there. “Ah shit, it’s everywhere. What do you need?” 

"To turn back time." Lance wanted to cry. His first big assignment and he wasted half of it on dusting his dragon. "There's no way I can get more. Where would I even _get_ dusk silt? Oh Stars, they're going to kill me. And then you. We'll be sent to the poor house and have to work this debt off 'til we die and for you, that's going to be a very long time." The dusk silt that _did_ make it back into the paper packets was full of impurities from Lance's work table. 

“Can’t we just ask someone downstairs? I could - _hh_ \- sneak in and…” Keith’s brow crumpled. “A-and…”

Lance watched in horror as a fireball flew from Keith's mouth in a massive sneeze. It hit one of the crates and consumed it completely in dragon flames. The fire slowly spread from the first crate to the next. 

Keith's face scrunched up again. 

"No! No sneezing! Stop!" Lance ran the short distance between them and clamped a hand over Keith's mouth. 

Tears leaked from Keith’s eyes as he squeezed them shut in an effort to obey. He smacked Lance’s hand away. “I can’t _help_ it!” he protested, smoke leaking from his mouth as he drank in stuttering, hitching breaths. “Open the wi- _hi_ -“ Another sneeze, loud enough to wake the whole castle, ripped from his throat and sent a stream of fire licking up the curtains. As they caught and started to burn, Keith was already gearing up for another, and it was clear that now it had started, there was no way this was stopping any time soon. 

"Out; we have to get out." Lance turned Keith around and pushed him through the door into the stairwell. 

Keith sneezed fireballs down the corridor while Lance just prayed that no one was down there. They screeched to a halt at the bottom as the fire raged behind them and more fire lit anything flammable in front of them. The stairwell was mostly stone, but the tapestries were all goners. 

"To the right," Lance said, running left as Keith ran right. "Your other right!" 

Essentially blind from tears and an inability to breathe long enough to open his eyes even if he wanted to, Keith turned tail and growled. “There’s no su-hh!” The door to the corridor managed to bounce the fire back at them so that they had to duck, but a second sneeze caught the wood. “-ch thing!” 

They were in so much trouble, but it was also a little funny watching Keith sneeze fire, absolutely miserable. "After you," Lance said, skidding to a halt and giving a slight bow. 

Keith gave him an incredulous look before the next sneeze caught him by surprise and he snapped forward, lighting his own tunic on fire. “Master!” 

"Oh that's not good." Lance looked around the corridor and spotted a decanter sitting on a side table. He grabbed it, and without looking inside, threw the contents on Keith. 

He very quickly got an answer as to what it had been filled with. The wine caught and the flames roared higher as Keith cried out, wriggling out of his shirt and abandoning it as they kept running. “You!” he gasped. “Are a!” He skittered to a stop to try and direct the next sneeze out of harm’s way, but he happened to be facing an open door. Several maids came racing out, screaming as the laundry around them caught fire. Keith gave up speaking to try and mime ‘water’ at Lance by wiggling his fingers like rainfall. 

"Right. Water." Lance smacked his forehead and held a hand up to the maids. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the flowing power inside him, then opened them and watched the water rain down over the fleeing maids and burning clothes. "Okay new plan. You sneeze and I'll try to put them out." 

It helped more than doing nothing helped, but Lance’s water was in no way a real deterrent to dragon fire. They kept running, Keith doing his best to clamp a hand over his mouth and nose, blasting his own face with flame and soot when he could manage it. He was dizzy and stumbling by that point, never able to get in a full breath, and when his hand landed on the handle he was certain led to the courtyard, he was beyond grateful. 

Instead, he opened it to the library, too blind and exhausted to realize his mistake as he ran into the room. 

All of the mages lifted their heads as the door was thrown open and stared at Keith: now shirtless, covered in ash and dusk silt, smoke rising from his nose and mouth. 

Lance crashed into his back and held on for dear life as they teetered. 

"This is no place to be playing ar-" the elder was cut off by Keith's sneeze. The whole room watched in horror as fire bounced off the floor and straight into a shelf. The books had no qualms about catching fire and burned in a delightful blaze. 

Lance reacted right away, this time remembering he was, indeed, a water mage. He summoned a shower directly above the books, drenching them instantly, but not doing much for the fire. 

“What in blazes-” began another elder before, as if in payback for his word choice, the next sneeze set fire to his toupee. 

“S-sor,” Keith tried to stutter, but only managed to light the table in front of them on fire as well. Looking around, trying to think quick, Keith raced for a large jug sitting by the fireplace in the reading nook. On his way back, he ignited two more entire shelves of books at once and he thought he heard Lance’s voice over the din.

Everything was screaming and chaos, but all Keith could hope to do to help was to throw the water from the jug towards the table where the elders were seated. 

The table exploded. 

“MASTER!” Keith yelled, frantic. 

Lance stared wide-eyed, his warning dying on his tongue. They were beyond trouble, they were beyond poor house, they were single-handedly burning down the whole wing. Flames licked at his feet, shocking him out of his trance. He grabbed Keith's hand and tugged him hard. 

Keith dropped the jug and followed limply behind. Smoke billowed out in the hall and Lance did everything he could to keep the fire at bay. It was enough to get both of them outside. Mages were already gathered and trying to contain the fire. No one noticed them slipping out, all eyes on the building engulfed in iridescent flames. 

They stumbled away, far enough to be out of ear and eyeshot. Keith was pinching his nose when Lance finally brought them to a halt. Powder still glowed through the soot and flames licked from the sides of his mouth.

Lance brought a rainstorm over Keith's head. The soot and powder washed off him in streaks and soothed his eyes. It ran down his bare chest and soaked into his pants. After a solid minute of rain, Lance shook his hands to stop the flow, water splattering from his fingertips. As soon as he was done, he collapsed to the damp grass. 

"Are-" Lance panted, which made him cough, "-you okay?" 

Keith sank down near-bonelessly, wiping his wrist under his nose and sniffling. “I dod’t eben know how to -“ He shuddered with one last weak sneeze, all smoke and no fire. He was beyond exhausted and Lance’s water only helped to sap his energy more. “To answer that.” Sniffle. 

"Well, that was one way to cover up the dusk silt fiasco. I guess you saved my ass." Lance could see the smoke in the sky change from black to white. They were making progress on putting the fire out.

“Are you kiddigg?” Keith’s voice was pathetically stuffy. “They all know it was be, ad they know I belogg to you. I have to go bagg. To explain.”

Lance scoffed and grabbed a fistfull of Keith’s singed pants, tugging to make him sit down. “Now or later, we’ll still get in trouble. I choose later. Let’s rest and let their tempers cool before going back.”

Keith was in no shape to protest, and simply flopped on his side in the grass, chest heaving and sputtering an occasional cough. “...Think ‘m fire-sick.” 

“That’s a thing?” Lance grabbed a fallen leaf and flicked it a few times until it expanded in size. He handed it to Keith. “Wipe your nose. You’re dripping soot.”

Dubiously, Keith took the leaf and blew his nose loudly, which shredded the delicate thing and smeared the soot on his face but at least allowed him to speak clearly once more. “It happens if I use all my fire at once. Nauseated. Head hurts. Hope you don’t want me bottling anything for the next couple of hours.” 

“I don’t think we’re going to be bottling anything for the next couple days, if ever again.” Lance sighed and flopped down just as a mushroom grew to catch his head. “You tried to put out dragon fire with fire water and burned down the entire library. I couldn’t control you for a second time. So-” Lance took a deep breath and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. “In the words of the great Goddess Hoile after Glarie froze the world...we’re fucked.”

“...I’m so sorry,” Keith murmured into the grass, before something in Lance’s sentence snagged and he sat up enough to peer at him. “What in all hells is ‘fire water?’”

Lance blinked up at him, wrinkling his nose. “What do you mean _what is fire water?_ How do you not know…Oh. I guess you’ve never had to use it.”

“Right, so the question stands.” Keith frowned. “Wait. Is that what was in the jug in the library?” 

“Yeah. The jug by the fireplace. Put there to start fires. That’s the fire water. That’s what you threw all over the library.”

“What the...who invented _that?_ That’s - water is for putting fires _out! That’s the point of water!_ ” Keith threw up his hands in agitation. 

“It’s not actually _water_. That’s just its name. And you-” Lance snorted, covering his smile with his hand. “Threw it all over centuries-old books, right on top of your own flames.” The snort burst into a giggle. “Oh Goddesses. You tried to put out fire with more fire. Very Keith of you.” Lance was clutching his stomach trying to hold in the laughter.

Keith huffed, clearly failing to see the humor in it. “I was trying to help.” 

Lance wiped the tears from his eyes. “You helped alright. Helped the fire.” When Keith sulked more, Lance nudged him. “Oh, come on. It’s a little funny. I mean we’re totally fucked, but did you see the look on the elders’ faces? It was worth it just for that.”

“ _No,”_ Keith sassed back. “I didn’t, because I couldn’t see _anything.”_ He paused, then asked with a tiny smile, bearly there, “Who did I burn? At least tell me I got Greeve. I’ve been hoping for a chance to set him on fire since I hatched.” 

“Not Greeve, but you did get Herren’s toupee.” Lance snorted again. “Oh, he was so mad.”

“Well good. That should have burned a long time ago, too.” 

Keith was very decidedly not looking at Lance, choosing to glare at the grass instead, sniffling now and then. 

Lance sat up, letting his mushroom pillow pop. He poked Keith’s cheek and leaned forward to catch his gaze. “Hey, it’s funny.”

“It’s not funny at all!” Keith yelled, his voice cracking on the end and sending him into a coughing fit that he tried valiantly to speak through. “This is - is my fault! What are we gonna _-_ gonna do? I’m - you’re going to -” He had to give up and let the fit pass, pressing a hand to his abused throat. 

“It’s a little funny.” Lance’s smirk fell when Keith leveled him with a glare. “Okay. Fine. Don’t set me on fire with your eyes.” He rubbed Keith’s back right under his wings and stared out into the forest line. “It’s just - there’s nothing to be done about it now. What happened, happened and it’s better to laugh it off than worry ourselves to death before we even know what our punishment is.”

That seemed, if anything, to make Keith feel worse. He dragged his knees to his chest and hid his face in them, his body tense and voice thick. “I have done nothing but get you in trouble since you summoned me.” 

Lance squeezed his arm through Keith’s, looping them together. “I’m going to tell you a secret.”

His dragon grunted from somewhere within the safety of his knees. 

“Before you, I was already getting into trouble all the time. You’re nothing special.”

Keith lifted his head a little and peeked at Lance. “Wow. Thank you, I feel much better...about torching your lab and, oh, _the entire Magerium to the ground._ ” 

“Firstly, the Magerium is made out of stone; I’m sure it’s not burnt to the ground. Don’t be dramatic. Secondly, all you did was sneeze. You didn’t do it on purpose. Besides, it was my fault. I was the one that knocked it over.”

“That wasn’t normal, though.” Slowly, Keith unfolded himself until he was sitting cross-legged. “I mean, you’ve been around me long enough to know. I don’t usually, you know, _incinerate_ stuff, unless I’m sick. But whatever that stuff was just...stuck. It felt like all my mana was being pulled out. Forced out? It’s hard to describe.” 

Lance nodded. “That sounds about right. Dusk silt is highly toxic to magic. It clings to it and disrupts its flow. You’re just lucky it didn’t explode on you.” He tilted his head. “Or maybe it did and that’s why you were sneezing fire.”

“Fair warning that you might see that again in the winter,” Keith said sheepishly. “But that was especially awful. If it’s toxic to magic, why even use it? What were you making?” 

“Bombs.” Lance shrugged. “If I make them correctly - which I always make everything correctly - well, I guess except for this time. That’s not the point. They explode and stick to the mage, nullifying any magic for about an, eh, a candlemark or two. You’ll be feeling better sooner since it was only the dusk silt itself and not Poisoned Dusk.”

Keith frowned. “The Magerium put in a mass order for...magic-nullifying bombs? Why?” 

“Does it matter?” Lance pulled his arm back and picked at his tunic. “It’s an honor to work with something so rare, you know. I wonder if they were going to raise my rank if I did well,” he said wistfully. 

“Of course it matters! Doesn’t it matter to you, what they might be used for?” 

Anger and hurt boiled in Lance’s stomach. “This was a big chance for me. What the Magerium does with my potions is out of my hands. Whether they’re used to hurt or heal, it’s out of my control. You’ve never questioned any of the other potions I’ve made.”

“Should I have?” Keith’s brow was furrowed as he looked Lance over. “I never thought I’d need to. I assumed it all was being used for something good, but I can’t imagine a reason to strip a mage of his magic.”

“Apparently you should’ve. You still, after all this time, don’t understand what I do or why.” A spiked mushroom burst through the ground and Lance ripped it up, popping it out of existence. “I’m a Lesser Potions Master of the Magerium, _Keith_ ,” he spat his name. “And _you_ are my familiar. We _both_ do as they say, no questions asked. Sure, that means making healing salves, but it also means making poisons, traps, and curses.” His eyes unfocused and turned inward to stare at the past. “Potions aren’t right or wrong, they’re bottled magic. A vessel that can hold _all_ magic. The _correct_ kind of vessel. I do not care what the Magerium does with them, as long as I get to make them,” he said, voice a low warning and eyes still unfocused.

Fire flickered behind Keith’s golden gaze, the urge to retaliate, to argue - then they trailed over Lance’s shoulder to the plume of white smoke rising over the Kingswood and deflated. He sighed and rubbed at his red nose, the fight leaving him almost as quickly as it came, exhaustion clear in the slump of his spine. “Sorry, Master.” 

“It’s fine. I-” Lance sighed, focusing back in on Keith. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that potions are all I have. I’m nothing without them.” He mirrored Keith, slouching as tiny mushrooms popped up around him.

Hesitantly, Keith rested a clawed hand on Lance’s knee. “That’s not true. At all. At least, not to - I mean.” He coughed and looked aside, red rising in his cheeks. “To, um. Me.” 

Lance stared down at the hand, blinking at it. After a moment he placed his own on top. “I’m not used to that yet,” he said, swallowing around a strange lump in his throat. “Not used to anyone being on my side.”

“Well,” Keith drawled. He was awkward and embarrassed but didn’t move his hand. “We’ve got time for it to sink in.”

“I guess this means that neither of us are alone to face the wrath of the Elders this time, either?” Lance pressed into Keith’s shoulder, the tiniest movement becoming the slightest pressure, just a shift of his hips to be that much closer. 

Keith sniffled. “I guess we should get it over with.”

“Can’t we wait a little longer? I want to pretend I still have a job.” His hand squeezed over Keith’s. The last thing Lance wanted was for Keith to feel guilty about _sneezing,_ but he couldn’t hide the fear that pooled in his stomach. If they collared Keith for his actions at the party, Lance had no idea what awaited them now.

Sure enough, Keith groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’s bad enough to be so mortified but then on top of it, you... _augh_.”

“Will be fine,” Lance finished his sentence for him. “And so will you.” He plucked a tiny mushroom and fell limp in his hand. “Somehow. We’ll figure this out. We’re a team, right?”

“...Right.”

It took longer to get back than it did to run away. Firstly, because they were trying to be as slow as possible and secondly, because Keith was still fire-sick, which made him woozy and uncoordinated. Lance had offered his arm, on which Keith was currently leaning heavily.

As they approached the singed tower, all of the evacuated mages were huddled outside with their familiars in various stages of undress or disarray. The master water mages were still fighting the dragonfire with concentrated streams of blue mana. The Council of Elders, meanwhile, were gesturing wildly as they argued over the cacophonous din of frightened animal chattering. 

At the arrival of Lance and Keith, they all quieted one by one. Many of the younger mages looked confused, but there was definite venom in the stares from the elders. Elder Herren, holding the remnants of his torched hairpiece, turned to them, somehow seeming taller from the way he looked down his nose. 

“I am rather surprised you two came back,” he began coolly. “Given the extent of the damage. Would you care to explain?”

“It was my fault,” Keith spoke up immediately, letting go of Lance to stand up straight. He met the elder’s eyes, unafraid. “My Master was working on an order, and I knocked his work station with my tail. As it turns out, I suppose I’m highly allergic to dusk silt.” 

Lance gaped up at Keith. He’d definitely smacked the box with his arm. He could still feel the action replaying on his skin over and over.

The crowd of mages began to collectively murmur to each other, looking suspicious, unnerved. The words _poisoned dusk_ snagged at the end of a few sentences, bitten off mid-syllable behind cupped hands. Elder Herren said nothing, but the space between his eyebrows twitched. 

“I see. You caused all of this damage yourself?” Elder Herren gestured behind at the tower still gushing white smoke, the stonework sooty and stained. 

“Like I said,” Keith said obstinately. “I suppose I have an allergy.” 

“Shouldn’t you be asking if he’s alright?” Lance piped up behind him, a thread of anger in his voice. “Your order for poisoned dusk was luckily not what got on him. Just the silt itself.”

Elder Herren frowned, sending his glasses sliding. He glanced at Keith and back to Lance. “There was an order for poisoned dusk?”

“He seems to be quite fine,” Elder Greeve spoke up quickly. Placing a hand on Herren’s shoulder, he pulled him back to take his place. Herren blinked up at him before bowing his head. “Unlike the tower, the laundry room, the antiquities room, and a great portion of the library.” 

“I think a _person_ is more importaint than a dumb library.” Lance stepped in front of Keith, trying his best to look tall and like a mage worthy of a dragon. “If you think that the _tower_ is the problem here-”

“If I may,” a voice offered from afar. Shiro ran the distance over to them, a scroll clutched in one hand. He spared a brief look at Keith before unrolling the scroll for Elder Greeve.

“I have made it a matter of study to be aware of the more obscure, forgotten uses of some of our stock. Dusk silt was once, centuries ago, a known histamine for dragons. It was used to do anything from relieving headaches to weaponizing the dragons’, erm, reactions for warfare.” 

“Wait a second,” Keith complained. “They made that stuff into _bombs_ just to make us sn-“

“ _However_ ,” Shiro continued with a stern look at Keith. “These uses have been forgotten as dragons themselves have become nearly extinct. In short - neither the potions maker nor his familiar would have known to exercise caution around the component.” 

Of course Shiro knew more about dragons than anyone else. Knew more about _Keith_. Lance didn’t love this, but if it got them a free pass… He turned to the elders, as did the rest of the crowd.

Greeve seemed to consider this, eyes wandering between Keith, Lance, and to the side, where a crowd of several dozen mages were whispering to each other. They looked between Lance and then the elders, murmuring something indistinct. A few of them pointed. 

“That seems...” Greeve said, eyeing the crowd. “Understandable. Unusual circumstances and all that.” 

“The creature burnt down the library!” Trevaine argued, throwing up her arms in hysterics. The effect of her anger was lost in her lack of height, but her face had gone a shade of red that was almost purple. 

“And the laundry,” Sanders added quietly. 

Herren glanced over to Mirium, who had yet to speak up. She frowned at Keith, then at Lance, drilling holes into him with the severity of her stare. 

Lance shrunk back and pressed into Keith’s bare chest. 

“I believe,” she said at length, “This truly was an unfortunate accident. And the Magerium exists to educate, not to punish. Certainly both Master and Familiar will not soon forget this lesson, I trust?” 

“No, Elder,” Lance said quickly, with a bow. Relief cracked over him, and ran down his back in cold shivers. “Not ever.” 

With a tired sigh, Herren rubbed his head to ward off an obviously impending headache. “Very well,” he said at length. “You may retain your rank.” 

Lance turned to Keith, smiling, eyes shining. For once Lance was glad of Shiro’s rank and power. On instinct, Keith reached for Lance’s hand and Lance squeezed back. They were safe.

“ _However,_ ” Herren continued, sharing a glance with Greeve. “That beast is far too dangerous to keep in the Grand Magerium. You will relocate at once. Wherever you settle, it is not to be within 100 leagues of any well populated villages.” 

Keith bristled and scowled, wings expanding and tail raising. “But that’s not fair! I’ve been here my whole-!”

“A reasonable compromise, Head Elder,” Shiro said, sending Keith a beseeching look. Keith snapped his mouth closed, but glared everything he couldn’t say. 

Lance’s hand tensed, squeezing Keith in its grasp. “But my work…” he protested, “How am I supposed to make anything without the castle stores?”

“You will be sent a sufficient shipment of materials with any orders.” Elder Greeve looked sternly at Lance. “I would not question this generous offer, _Lesser_ Potions Master,” he said with too much glee behind his words. 

It wasn’t fair. It made him want to drown them all in a torrent. Lance squeezed his eyes shut trying to calm himself. He couldn’t let on how much this hurt him. He’d promised Keith that they were in this together, even boasted how they could run away from it all. The reality of it, though, was a lot harder to accept. He was being kicked out. If his family knew--

To his left, Keith made a big show of drinking in a few breaths before yelling an obnoxiously loud “ **_ASs_ ** _chew!”_ that to Lance, who had been listening to him sneeze for a candlemark, sounded suspiciously fake. The fireball caught Elder Greeve’s hat. As several other mages rushed to help him, throwing his hat to the ground and stomping on it, Keith repeated the move. The second fireball scorched the bottom of Greeve’s deep green velvet robe. 

Shiro shot Keith a completely gobsmacked look. 

“Sorry,” Keith said, knuckling at his nose and giving Lance’s hand another surreptitious squeeze. “Guess it’s still working its way out.” 

Lance could hug him right then and there. It wasn’t a solution but it sure did feel good to have a tiny bit of revenge. "A _lot_ got on him," he said apologetically, trying to hide his smirk. 

They were unceremoniously excused and Lance dragged Keith away before Shiro could open his mouth. Once they were far enough that they wouldn't be overheard, Lance tugged gently on their linked hands to get Keith's attention. "Thanks for sneezing on Greeve." 

Keith flashed him a big, sharp-toothed smile. “I don’t know what you mean, Master, it was purely involuntary. Just couldn’t hold it back.”

"A fortunate coincidence, then." 

Making their way back to Lance's apothecary to see what they could salvage required some creative acrobatics. Keith did most of the work, carrying them over holes and flying over burnt stares, but Lance helped now and then by reinforcing or flat out rebuilding the embering flooring with mushrooms. 

The further up they went, the worse the damage got, until they reached a point where the ceiling was burnt away entirely. Nothing remained. 

Lance reached up to touch his glasses, the only thing that had made it out unscathed. He took them off and glared at them as if they had caused the fire. 

"It really is all gone. All my work...”

Keith grew quiet. “...I really am sorry. I’ll...I’ll figure something out.” 

"We."

“Huh?” Keith looked up at him. 

"We're going to figure it out.” Lance took a deep breath and met Keith's gaze. " _Together_. Without them."

After a few seconds of staring at him, Keith’s mouth twitched into a smile. “...Yeah. Okay. Without them.” 

~🍄~

It took almost no time for Lance to pack up his belongings. Greeve and the other Elders had agreed to give them three days to move out; Lance had finished two days ago. Keith had never really unpacked his trunk since he didn’t need all his fancy clothing. Despite the lack of belongings, Keith was the one with people to say goodbye to. Lance itched his arm, but it didn’t cure the deep ache under his skin.

Keith’d spent the past two days with Shiro and Adam while he packed. Lance had insisted since he wasn’t sure when they’d be able to come back. Besides, with Shiro busy being the King’s Mage it was also unlikely that he’d have time to come visit wherever their accommodations were being set up.

Even though Keith wasn’t that far away, it’d still been over two days since Lance had seen him. Their bond was growing itchy and tight under his skin- like it was trying to pull them back together. So today, he was going to spend the little time they had left before they were banished, with Keith, in his home, with the people who’d known him before he was Summoned. 

Lance stood in the doorway staring at their empty room. Gone were Keith’s bedroll and Lance’s books. The fireplace sat bare with only the crane hovering over the cold hearth. The bed was stripped of his quilts and the drying herbs that hung above the window were carefully packed away. 

The room echoed hollow and empty with each shift of Lance’s body. It felt like yesterday that he was dreaming of living here, in the dorm. This small room had been his life’s goal and he’d accomplished that. _Accomplished my dream_ , Lance repeated to himself over and over in his head. 

What a shit dream.

He closed the door and it clanged against the frame. A hermit to never accomplish anything else, that was his true punishment. He hadn't understood it at the time, but now he could see it: growing old and forgotten in the woods as the orders slowly lessened until they stopped. To be cut off was a slow torture that would eat him away day by day. 

Lance itched over his heart, but it provides no relief from the constant pull. Squaring his shoulders, he turned down the hall, lugging his case behind him. 

It was quite the walk from the dorms to the King’s Mage’s tower. It was made even longer by his heavy luggage. By the time he made it to the bottom of the swirling staircase, he was dripping with sweat and panting. But, the closer he got, the louder the bond screamed at him. It propelled him forward with searing urgency. This was their first time being so far apart since Keith returned to him after the botched Summoning and he had no idea how they’d managed for a week last time. Lance was almost sprinting by the time he reached the landing. 

“Keith,” Lance panted, blinking sweat from his eyes. 

Keith had thrown the door open long before Lance had reached the top, his face lighting with a happy smile. “Master!” Then he frowned. “Why didn’t you summon me through the bond? I would have carried that for you.”

Lance sucked in air like he was drowning. “No time. I couldn’t-” He shook his head as his lungs failed to supply air for his voice. All he could do was move forward to ease the itching. He clutched Keith’s hand and it was a summer breeze over his skin. The bond relaxed, calming down as it rebuilt itself between them. “I stayed away too long. I’m sorry.”

Throwing propriety to the wind, Keith yanked him in by the hand for a tight, partially desperate hug. He let out a shuddery, relieved sigh. “I didn’t want to ask. But that was really hard.” 

"It won't happen again, now that I know. I didn't think it was going to be like that." Lance melted into Keith, his sweat drying in the heat of his familiar. Despite Keith's eternally high temperatures, Lance felt cool for the first time since they’d parted company. He pulled back as his heart calmed and his breathing returned to normal. "It didn't hurt you, right? You would tell me before it started to hurt." 

“Um.” Keith shifted a little. “It wasn’t so bad. But I can’t say I’m not glad you’re here.”

"If it helps, I can, um, keep holding your hand. I mean, until it equalizes." That's what a good mage would do, right? Lance asked himself. It seemed like the only kind thing to do.

“...Only if you’re, uh, comfortable with that, of course.” 

"Of course." Lance shifted his grip so that their fingers intertwined. "It's my duty to keep you safe and well." 

“Yes.” Keith cleared his throat. “Right. Um. Thank you. Master.” He seemed to realize where they were, crammed on the landing, and hurriedly pulled Lance inside. “Come in and I’ll get you...tea? You’re so sweaty though. Water and then tea? Water and berry juice?”

"Tea is fine," Lance said, wicking the last of his sweat away with a flick of his wrist. He was struck again by the luxury of Shiro’s apartments. He remembered that they were quite the sight last time, but he'd forgotten with time how beautiful everything was. Keith had given up so much already and now he was giving up the people closest to him. Unconsciously, Lance's fingers tightened around Keith's. 

“Okay.” Keith tugged his hand to pull Lance to a stop, glancing over his shoulder. “There’s two other people who came to say goodbye, and I would really like you to meet them. They were the only ones other than Shiro and Adam to know I existed. But if you aren’t feeling up to it, you can rest in my room and I’ll bring your tea there.” 

Lance didn't really want to be even a room away. The bond felt tattered and raw after being pulled so tight for two whole days. He shook his head. "I can meet them. But, tea first." 

Keith gave him a grateful smile. “Of course.” He began to step away but stopped at the tight grip on his hand. He glanced down at it and then up again, the smile warming into something that looked an awful lot like fondness. “...Would you like a tour? The kitchen is very cozy.” 

“I bet it puts my fireplace to shame.” It was a nice excuse to stay close for a moment longer without looking too suspicious. As soon as they were among company they’d have to separate, no matter how innocent their hand holding was. Shiro was King’s Mage after all. If he suspected them of nefarious deeds, it would all be over. 

True to his word, Keith showed off the kitchen as he set the tea out one-handed, followed by a peek at his own room while the leaves were steeping. By then, there were no more excuses to keep them entwined, so he pulled his hand back with one last squeeze. Lifting the tray, he inclined his head to the adjacent parlor. “It’s going to be fine. Relax.”

"I am relaxed." Lance let out a shuddering breath and squared his shoulders. Shiro and his puma. He could do this. At the end of the day, they were just another mage and his familiar. The most powerful mage in the kingdom who had personally raised Lance's own familiar and had already admonished him once, as well as presided over his trial, but still just another mage nonetheless. Lance slumped slightly. "Let's just go." 

Keith pushed the door open with his hip, walking backwards to hold it open for Lance. Inside, Shiro was leaning back on an overstuffed loveseat, laughing at something the woman across from him was saying. He was not in his usual black and white tabard, but a pair of loose trousers and an oversized tunic. Even from the door, Lance could read the scrawl on the enormous, misshapen mug he was holding: sHeERo.

Next to him was a man of about the same age with warm brown skin and tawny brown hair. He was slender, with thin, gold-framed glasses, and dressed equally casual if a bit more fitted. Across the squat table on an opposite loveseat was the woman Shiro was talking with, her wild red curls defying gravity as she gestured and laughed. To her left, watching her in amusement, was a...man? A feathered man. A strix, Lance’s mind belatedly supplied, one of the tree-people from the westernmost forests - rare but not unheard of. Shiro’s familiar was nowhere to be seen.

“There they are,” Shiro said, standing with a smile and extending his free hand to Lance. “Hello again, Magi Fuentes. Good of you to come.”

“Oh, yeah.” Lance cleared his throat, cheeks burning. He took Shiro’s hand and bowed slightly. “Thank you for having us before our journey.”

Keith set the tray on the table and opened his mouth to introduce the other two present when the redhead beat him to it. 

“You were right, Keith,” she said, all smiles and mischief. “You Master does have very nice eyes.” 

The heat on Lance’s cheeks grew into a flame. He coughed into the palm of his hand, trying to cover the growing red he knew was there. “Tea,” he squeaked out. “Please.”

“Rightaway,” Keith said in a rush, moving to pour the tea and sloshing a little in his haste. He practically shoved the cup into Lance’s chest, glaring at the girl, who seemed entirely unperturbed.

Shiro shook his head. “Forgive them. This heathen is Annalys, a former student and now member of the palace guard, and the polite young man saddled with her for eternity is her familiar, Oriax.” 

“Stars illuminate,” Oriax said, very politely indeed. 

Lance nodded from behind his teacup to each of them and parroted back, “Stars illuminate.” He found a free spot on the chaise lounge and sat at the very edge.

“And I’ve not seen you since the Summoning,” the man to Shiro’s left said with a placid smile as he dabbed at the spilled tea. “It’s good to see you in a much less ostentatious setting.” 

Lance wrinkled his nose, trying to place the man’s face. A mage, maybe, from Shiro’s time. He wracked his brain for any memory of him and came up short. If the man was friends with Shiro, though, he must have some kind of rank. Lance bowed his head. “I’m afraid I don’t remember, Magi…”

Adam chuckled and waved him off. “I’m no Magi. I’m Adam, Shiro’s familiar. I suppose I did look rather different when last we met.” 

_Adam,_ Shiro’s _puma_. He had no idea pumas had a human form. "I'm sorry I didn't-" Lance snapped his mouth closed. He looked to Keith to save him. 

“All of you, leave him alone,” Keith snapped, situating himself defensively at his Master’s feet. “You’re making him nervous.”

“Apologies.” Adam’s smile was still amused as he passed a plate of iced cookies over to Lance. “We all have so many expectations on us outside of these walls, so we tend to be a bit...informal. This is, after all, just our home. You are not under interrogation. You are here as our very welcome guest.” 

Lance took a cookie and nibbled on the exquisite sweetness. He’d had a few cookies over his life when there were events, but to have them in a home on hand for tea, that was something else. All eyes were on him as he ate it. The nerves overwhelmed him and he stuffed the whole cookie in his mouth, choking slightly on the crumbs.

The strix leaned forward, resting his feathered head in his cupped hand. “A guest that summoned our esteemed dragon, no less. How is little lizard-breath doing? Does he satisfy you?” His voice was haughty and lazy with slight upturns on the vowels. It made Lance feel like he was being talked down to. At least he was used to that and knew how to respond. 

“Keith is a very satisfactory familiar. He’s working hard and has come far in his study of herbs.” Lance kept his head down through the reply. Answer the questions, stay polite, and leave. That was his plan. 

“Don’t let him fool you,” Annalys scoffed. “He’s not hardworking, he’s _competitive.”_

 _Obviously,_ Lance thought to himself. Outside, though, he smiled and sipped on his tea.

“I’m also right here,” Keith grumbled, leaning back against Lance’s legs. The bond, which had begun to swell in protest, calmed once more. 

“If only we’d known you’d need herbcraft more than anything,” Shiro chuckled. “I could have given the bulk of your training over to Adam.”

Adam fixed him with a cool glare. “I did far more work than you. Do you know how often he was ill in the first four years? And, of those times, how many you were gone? And Stars, the _lungs_ on him...it’s a wonder I am able to hear.” 

Lance had been wrong, more than wrong. In his naivety, he’d thought Shiro was the only one who had Keith’s long time affection. Instead, he had an entire room full of people who all knew him so well that they felt the need to give Lance tips. It struck him that in this room, he was the one who’d known Keith the shortest and knew the least about him and yet he was the one bonded to him. Lance did his best not to stare sulkily into his tea as everyone reminisced about the horrors of raising a baby dragon. 

Cautiously, Keith lifted himself up and slid next to Lance on the chaise lounge. He leaned close and whispered, “What’s the matter? You smell upset. Should we leave?”

That snapped Lance from his thoughts and shame washed over him. They were here for Keith to say goodbye to the people he cared about, not for Lance to feel sorry for himself. Lance shook his head and smiled as best he could. “That nose of yours should be illegal. It’s just-” Lance floundered for an excuse. “Do you think they’d mind if I had another cookie?”

Keith gave him a particularly smug look. “Why not? _I_ made them.” 

“You did?” Lance whisper-hissed. Then to himself he muttered, “I knew you were good but these…” He leaned forward to snatch another and this time he was slow to savor it. The sugar melted over his tongue and his eyes closed unbidden.

“ _And,”_ Keith continued, their murmuring covered by Shiro and Adam’s good natured bickering. “I knew you would enjoy them, so when I picked up the supplies they are sending with us...I perhaps stopped by the kitchen stores. And say...helped myself to a few bags of sugar. Sizable bags.”

Lance pressed their shoulders together so that their bond would be its strongest when he said, “Good job, Keith.” 

His familiar blinked at that, the smile falling into surprise. “...That’s it? No lecture about how stealing is wrong and what if the King senses my presence from three miles away?”

“Not this time. Why; did you want one?”

Keith startled them all by laughing out loud. The others stopped talking and glanced up to where he was grinning at Lance and shaking his head. When the two of them noticed they were, in fact, not alone in the room, all four of the other occupants were smiling at them. 

“Sorry,” Lance apologized, hiding behind his tea again. 

“Don’t be.” Shiro shook his head. “We’re just happy that you two get along so well.” 

“Do we?” Keith raised a playful eyebrow at Lance. “He wanted me to be a toad.” 

Lance scoffed. “I told you it’s not like that. I just like toads, okay? I’m fine with you being a dragon, now. You can’t hold that against me forever.”

“Toads…” Adam peered at Lance for a moment before his eyes widened, then his expression settled into secret amusement. “Is that so? Keith used to play with them a great deal as a child.”

“Adam,” Keith hissed. 

“Ooh, are we finally playing this game? I’ve been dying.” Annalys stood and hurried to the other side of the table, sitting directly on it and making the tea tray rattle. She took Lance’s cup from him none too gently and then held his hands in her own. “I’m afraid I must be the one to bear the news that, if he had his way, Keith would go _weeks_ without washing his hair.”

Keith frowned. “Don’t touch him.”

“Cruciferous vegetables make him belch smoke.” Oriax calmly sipped his tea. 

Shiro sat forward with a smile. “When he was about four, Keith asked me if he could be a princess when he grew up.” 

Lance blinked owlishly at them one by one as Keith’s secrets were revealed. “That’s...good,” he said, not sure what to say to the waterfall of information. He turned to Keith as Shiro’s words sunk in. “A princess?”

Keith bent forward, hiding his face in his hands and groaning. “Just...please. Kill me. Put me out of my misery before you ask that question. You’ll be fine without me.” 

Annalys squeezed Lance’s hands to get his attention again. When she had it, she leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “Keith won’t let anyone touch his horns.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“I’m leaving,” Keith announced, standing suddenly. “We’re leaving. Master, can we leave? This is worse than the trial.” 

“Oh no. I think we’re staying.” Lance grinned at Annalys. This was a little bit fun. “What else?”

“Sit down, Keith. We’re just playing with you.” Shiro motioned to the chair. “You knew this would happen.”

Keith sank down with a distinct whine. 

“Well partly,” Adam began, “he was fascinated with Allura’s dresses. He’d watch out the tower window and _insist_ that I add beads to his tunics…”

For the better part of an hour, Keith’s past was laid bare in the most embarrassing but loving way possible. Eventually, he uncurled himself from hiding behind Lance and started to defend himself, and after a while longer, was firing back with embarrassing stories of his own. By the time the conversation wound down, he was almost drowsing against Lance’s side. 

“Ah, I think we’ve kept you long after we promised.” Shiro glanced over to the window at the first shy glimmer of stars. “You two are leaving at first light, correct?”

Lance nodded. “If it’s fine with you, Keith can sleep here and I can pick him up.” This had been almost...homey. The way Annalys and Oriax teased him was similar to his own siblings. The way the King’s Mage and his familiar talked about Keith, it was like…

_Family._

With Keith heavy against his shoulder, he realized - maybe that was exactly what it was, in a strange and different way. These people didn’t seem that far off from his own family. He looked down at the top of Keith’s head and frowned. 

He’d been selfish, wanting Keith to not have a past. To not have this. Lance would hate someone if they had the same thoughts about his own loved ones as he’d had about Shiro.

The Magerium had promised him a pure familiar whose only bond in life was to their mage, but here in the warmth of the hearth and looking at Keith’s sleepy face, Lance knew it was wrong.

“Mm-mm,” Keith protested. “M’going with you.”

“You are both welcome to stay, of course.” Adam stood and began stacking cups on the tea tray. 

There was really no place to sleep in the dorm with the room stripped bare. Bad planning on his part. He’d only been planning to stay a few hours and then head out. Now, it would be cruel to make Keith fly when he was so obviously tired. Lance sighed. “Do you want to stay?” he asked Keith.

Adam and Shiro exchanged a smile. 

“I wanna do what you wanna do,” Keith slurred back in response. “If you want to leave tonight, I can fly.”

Lance tried to push down the little voice inside him that blamed Shiro for that response. If he insisted that Keith was too tired to fly, then they’d be in the air immediately as Keith tried to prove him wrong. So instead, he said, “I don’t think I could handle the trip after all this excitement. It’s probably best to leave after some rest.” He turned to Shiro. “As long as you’re sure.”

“Certainly. You can have Keith’s bed. He always sleeps in the fireplace anyway.” 

Annalys stood and stretched. “That’s our cue, Ori.”

Oriax stood and bowed to Lance. “It was a pleasure.” 

Lance inclined his head. “It was a pleasure meeting both of you. May you both have illuminated paths on your way.”

Annalys clapped him hard on the back. “Good luck with the lizard.” 

The lizard in question stood and then huffed when Annalys squeezed the air out of him. “I’ll see you out so you leave faster.” 

As Keith left with Annalys and Oriax, Adam smiled at Lance. “Come and I’ll take you to Keith’s room.” 

For some reason it hadn’t occurred to Lance that the place he’d be sleeping was his familiar’s childhood room. All of a sudden staying here felt more intimate than it had a few moments ago. He stared at Keith’s back as it disappeared behind the door. Part of him wanted to wait until Keith returned. “Yes, thank you,” he said instead.

Keith’s room alone was easily twice the size of their cramped little dorm. The fireplace took up nearly half a wall on its own with its warm, polished wood and carved lions. The window was tall and had a stained glass pattern of black and white diamonds. His bed was neatly made, big enough for three adult humans at least, and covered in embroidered cushions. However, there were plenty of details that hinted as to how the room had been recently lived in. The wardrobe door was ajar, which gave a peek into its messy interior. The desk was piled with books, all sporting tassel bookmarks halfway through. There was even a small easel in the corner with a mostly completed watercolor painting of the night sky. 

Most telling of all was the ratty, endlessly darned quilt at the foot of the bed that had seen its prime at least a decade prior. 

It told Lance more about Keith than he’d learned in the past couple candlemarks. It was like stepping into his most secret thoughts. Lance shifted nervously and tried to look like he _wasn’t_ shifting nervously.

“Keith might have some spare nightclothes if yours are all packed. If not, mine might fit you better than Shiro’s.”

“I have some,” Lance lied. “Uh, thank you, Arch Familiar.” He bowed, still unsure about where the line of propriety and familiarity began and ended.

Adam smiled, that same mysterious, knowing smile from earlier. “I realize this is strange for you, but we are sincere when we say you are most welcome. Any time you two would care to visit the Magerium, our home is open.” 

“Thank you. Again.” 

Adam nodded and shut the door behind him.

Alone, Lance stood in the doorway unmoving. Standing and doing nothing already felt like an invasion of Keith’s privacy, but he couldn’t stand there forever. Keith would be back soon and they both needed rest. Convincing himself that this was fine, he walked straight to the wardrobe to find a nightshirt. He kept his eyes pinned forward and didn’t dare stop at the vanity or examine the fine set of silver hairbrushes that still held a few stray black strands. 

Taking a deep breath that smelled like dust and Keith, he threw the wardrobe open. Most of the items inside were hastily hung, and a few had fallen to the bottom in small heaps. Lance shuffled through it. That was all he was doing. Looking for something to wear. He definitely wasn’t stopping to run his hand over the fine fabrics or muse at the various colors he’d never seen Keith wear. He didn’t pull one of the tunics to his chest to see how much broader Keith was. That’s what he wasn’t doing when a glint caught his eye. 

Setting the tunic back where it came from, Lance tiptoed over to a shelf piled high with glass. Little trinkets and bobbles that he was sure Keith had made sparkled in the moonlight. He found a flower, not dissimilar to the one he had made for King Alfor, a few animals, figures of what were probably Shiro and Adam, a feather that was broken in half, and a leaf with delicate veins running through the center. Lance ran his finger over the smooth surfaces, squinting through the darkness to see all the fine detail. 

The further down the shelf, the more crude and disfigured the models became. This was obviously a skill that Keith had honed over the years to perfect. For some reason, having seen the final product of this hard work, Lance had assumed Keith was naturally talented. He picked up a deformed sculpture of what was probably a pig. It was beautifully ugly, a physical representation of Keith’s perseverance. Lance’s heart warmed. It was nice that even people like Keith had to start at the bottom. 

He placed it back and walked slowly around the room, soaking in every detail that he could. The room was a little library where everything told Lance something about Keith. Passing by the desk, Lance pulled out one of the more well read books. Most of them were boring dry texts, but a few - actually, more than just a few - were more common romances whose pages made Lance blush. Abandoning the desk, he ran his hand over the tattered, well-loved blanket that hung over the end of the bed as he made his way toward the watercolor. Holding it up, he compared it to the sky outside. It was a map of the sky. Sometime between late winter and not quite spring, just before the constellations shifted. Every star was perfectly mapped and Lance could trace them with his finger. He muttered their names as he did, glancing outside to see if he could still see the edges of the winter sky long gone.

The heavy door groaned open.

Lance fumbled and dropped the painting. “Keith!” he squeaked.

“Master,” Keith mimicked back, one eyebrow raised. “Discovering what a mediocre artist your familiar is?” 

“You paint,” he said dumbly, then scrambled to pick up the canvas and place it back. “You never told me you liked to paint.”

“I don’t, really.” Keith shrugged and crossed to the fireplace, blowing on it to bring the fire to life. “It was just one of the things I learned to pass the time. Being in the same four rooms all day, every day, for twenty years can get a bit dull.”

Lance clutched the hem of his tunic to calm down. This was still Keith. Nothing had changed. “We could get you paints. If you wanted. You’re quite good and there will be less work coming in.”

Keith sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “About that. I thought, if you weren’t opposed, I might see about taking on some contracts at the nearest villages? They always need something or other gathered or killed and it’s the least I can do to help since it’s my fault we’re leaving.” 

_Contracts?_ Like some kind of common rogue? Lance was about to open his mouth to protest and then shut it. The money would be good and they might run into issues that the Magerium wouldn’t be able to fix, not to mention the loss of the castle’s kitchens and supplies. Still. “You don’t have to do that,” Lance decided as he said it. “It’s too dangerous and the Magerium said they would send us supplies every moon.”

“Forgive me if I don’t trust them very much at the moment,” Keith scoffed. He tugged Lance over to the bed by the wrist and pushed him down, kneeling to catch his eyes. “I can tell you aren’t thrilled about the idea, but...Listen. I’m going to take care of you. I swear it.” 

Keith had to be able to hear his heart beating. More likely, he could smell it or something. Did he smell worried; is that why Keith was acting like this? Lance squared his shoulders, doing his best to act confident. “I’m the one supposed to be taking care of you. You shouldn’t have to worry about things like contracts and monsters. You’re supposed to worry about herbs and bottling.”

“Either way.” Keith took Lance’s hands in his own and looked up at him, earnest and urgent. “I know you’re nervous. I just wanted you to know that everything will be fine. You said ‘together,’ right?”

Nodding, Lance looked down at their hands then into Keith’s golden eyes that almost glowed in the dim of the room.

“I won’t let you go without...is, um. All I’m trying to say.” 

Too many times Lance had wished he was stronger than this. Strong enough that his familiar didn’t have to worry about him so much he’d sat him on a bed and looked at him with such pity. All Lance could do was nod again, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

Keith sighed and stood. “Now you smell like I made it worse. Why don’t we just get some sleep?”

Lance kicked himself. Even if he wasn’t strong, he needed to be the pillar Keith could rely on, even if that meant being a pillar that Keith tried to protect. Lance stopped him from leaving by tugging on his hands. “You didn’t make it worse.” He used Keith as leverage to stand and took a step closer so he could see every detail of Keith’s face in the firelight. Without Keith’s sense of smell, Lance was bound to reading emotions the old fashioned way. “And you are right. We might have to resort to taking on contracts. But, if it comes to that, promise me that we’ll do it together.”

Keith gave him a wry smirk. “Is that an order or a request?” 

“Don’t make me make it an order, Keith.” Lance swung a little so that his arm hit Keith's side limply. “I want you to agree on your own terms.”

“So serious,” Keith goaded softly, nudging him back. “Relax, Master, I was teasing. If it means that much to you, then I promise. We’ll do it together. But I have other things I can do, too. Less dangerous skills, anyway. Fishing, woodcutting, building - that sort of thing.”

“That could be really helpful,” Lance said, nodding along.

“And you know, if all else fails…” Keith quirked an eyebrow with a smile. “There’s always the brothels.” 

Lance sputtered and coughed, ripping his hands from Keith’s to pound on his chest. “I can’t believe you’d say that! I’d never send you to a brothel.”

“Who said I was talking about me? You’re much prettier. You would be way more popular.” 

“M-me?!” Lance gaped at him open mouthed. “You - you _salamander!”_

Keith was laughing by that point, dancing out of Lance’s reach to coo in a falsetto. “Ooh, Master Magi, your eyes are so blue and pretty, your water magic isn’t the only thing _wet_ around here.”

“Get back here! How dare you.” Lance chased him around the room. “I would never, that's - how do you even know what people in brothels say?!”

“Oh like it’s hard to imagine.” 

“Well _I’ve_ never imagined it.” Lance was able to snag the end of Keith’s tunic before it ripped from his fingers and he went stumbling.

“I don’t believe that for a _second_. You’re the same age as me and there’s no way-“ Keith was cut off by the light in the room brightening and dimming in rapid succession. He rolled his eyes. “Wow, I won’t miss that at all. Shiro is saying to quiet down.” 

Lance blinked, rubbing his eyes. “That is _really_ annoying.” 

“Don’t I know it. And the older he’s gotten, the earlier he’s started going to bed, and the earlier he goes to bed, the more he does it. Too lazy to come over here and yell at me himself, the old sack of potatoes.” 

An admonishment was on the tip of his tongue not to bad mouth the King’s Mage, then he remembered that the King’s Mage was basically Keith’s dad. The absurdity of the entire situation hit him and he snorted into his hand. “I guess we better not disturb the potatoes and go to bed.” Saying that about the King’s Mage gave Lance a nervous tickle of rebellion up his spine.

“Yeah…” Keith grew quiet, looking around the room with an unreadable expression. “It’s funny. I spent all my life dying to get out of this tower, and now that it’s happening, I’m...well, honestly a little bit...I don’t know actually. Sad? Scared? Either way, it doesn’t feel real.” 

Lance’s smile faded into soft understanding. “It’s not forever.” He stepped a little closer, enough so that he could feel the heat radiating off Keith. “I’ll make sure of it. We’ll be back.”

That relaxed Keith a bit, and he gave Lance a grateful smile in return. “Thank you. It...means a lot. That you’d do that for me.”

 _That’s nothing, I’d do so much more than that,_ Lance thought. He brushed his knuckles over Keith’s hand, feeling the bond. It was almost mended now. “We should sleep. We have to get up with the sun.”

Instead of pulling away, Keith turned his hand over, his fingertips brushing against the pulse at his master’s wrist. “Don’t we always?” 

“But we don’t always fly. It’s in the Deepmist Forest and that’s quite the trip.” Lance could feel his heartbeat against Keith's fingers. It seemed to flutter faster whenever he looked directly into Keith’s eyes, so he kept his head down.

Keith sighed. “Alright, alright, you win. I’ll get you a nightshirt. Privy is across the hall, and I’ll get your water. There should be enough blankets on the…” He’d glanced over Lance’s shoulder to his bed, then colored as he caught sight of his tattered old quilt. Moving quickly, Keith stuffed it down between the footboard and the mattress. “There. Um. All yours.” 

Lance watched him and paused. He took another sweeping glance around the very full room and then turned back to Keith. “Don’t you want to take some of this with us? How much have you even packed?”

“Just clothes and necessities.” Keith stripped his tunic, shaking out his long hair. “No real reason to. This was my life before but,” he shrugged. “Now my life is with you.”

“What about that blanket?”

“...What blanket.” 

“The one you stuffed in your bed so I couldn’t see it. That blanket.” He pointed.

Keith huffed and went to rummage in his dresser to unearth two long nightshirts, one of which he tossed to Lance. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

Lance caught it and hummed. Keith was being almost cute. “I get really cold at night. I might go digging around trying to find some extra warmth.”

“You do not,” Keith shot back, struggling into his shirt before squirming out of his breeches. “You tell me all the time that I make the bed and the room extra warm.” As if to punctuate his annoyance, he sloshed water from the bedside pitcher into a mug with absolutely zero finesse, spilling it onto the rug below. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Lance stared down at the mug. He couldn’t tell if Keith was actually mad or being mopey about being teased. “But this room is a lot bigger. You won’t warm it like our dorm.”

“ _Goodnight,_ Master,” Keith said pointedly as he crawled into the fireplace. 

“Goodnight,” Lance whispered into the mug. He dried the rug with a snap of his fingers as he turned to the giant bed. Despite all the teasing, the bed really did look cold and he had gotten used to Keith being right under his mattress. 

With a sigh, Lance quickly changed and folded his day clothes before slipping between the spring-chilled sheets. He shivered and closed his eyes. The pillow smelled like Keith, warm smoke and home. He turned into it, breathing deep. So foreign and yet, so familiar. Keith’s scent had become something completely new to him. Clenching his teeth he tried not to chatter as the bed slowly warmed. “Goodnight,” he said again.

After a few minutes of silence, he heard Keith sigh accompanied by the crackle of burnt logs as he stood back up. Padding across the room in his bare feet, he dug around at the foot of the bed. “You could just ask, you know, instead of laying here smelling cold and miserable,” he grumbled as he crawled into the space below the bed, accompanied by his old quilt. 

“That’s not a thing. There’s no way I smell cold.” 

The mattress heated almost immediately. “Better?” came Keith’s muffled voice. Lance could hear the smile in it despite the harsh tones. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, sleep dragging across his words, “M’better.” Lance’s eyes grew heavy and his muscles melted in the warmth. 

“Thought so.” The bed creaked as Keith adjusted. “Dream well, stubborn Master-mine.” 

All he got back were a few incoherent mumbles before the room filled with Lance’s soft snores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell you how much it means to us that you guys brought our kudos back from the dead where AO3 tried to burry them T^T I'm crying THANK YOU
> 
> Autumn:  
> So occasionally Sail and I will talk about how, since we've been writing them together for so long now, we notice some of ourselves in the characterization of Keith or Lance. For example, when we post Pink Like Spring, Lance's entire wardrobe is Sail's in a nutshell.  
> Less cool? This entire chapter - well, the first part - RIP to Keith, cuz this is all me. This is it. This is what it is like to be me on a daily basis, fighting a never-ending battle against allergies to pretty much everything. So. Sorry dude.  
> Stay healthy out there, y'all. Hope this brought a little bit of joy to your week. Thinking of you.
> 
> Sail:  
> Holy fuck, 3k?!?!? *dies*  
> We've been working really hard on this and our two spring fics that will be coming out simultaneously, that's why this one has a strange release time (as in it doesn't have a schedule besides get a chapter out every week) gosh, there's only 4 more chapters left which means this will be over at the end of April or so, i'm not sure i'm ready, oh gosh, the first book will be compleated this month, excuse me while i go break down
> 
> Following us on twitter makes Shiro tell one embarrassing baby dragon story to Lance: [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not my birthday, but it'll feel like it if you follow us :3 [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)
> 
> cw for our one reader who owns a bunny: they eat a rabbit this chapter

~🍄~

Shiro & Adam, Spring’s End

The caravan was a simple ploy, transporting the most commonly stolen goods: salt, confliberries, medical supplies, and fire water. The medical supplies and fire water made sense, any uprising would need staples such as those, but it was the salt and confliberries that were strange. Why so many berries, inedible ones at that? At most, they were used by healers on field missions, or in the colder months for nobles to keep inside their gloves.

Speaking of. Shiro stretched one of the tight leather gloves to let air onto his over-hot skin. They were a torturous necessity to disguise his wooden arm. The warm spring day combined with the physical labor of traveling in a supply caravan made the gloves unbearable to wear, but he was too recognizable without them. 

"We're nearing the checkpoint, King’s Mage," Oriax said under his breath. "If we're to be attacked it would be soon." 

Adam stiffened behind him, clutching the dagger under his cloak. He probably felt vulnerable without his claws and teeth to protect him. Shiro didn’t blame him, he was also feeling vulnerable in such a tight space. The road here was only wide enough for them to walk single file.

“The air feels strange here,” Adam murmured, leaning forward to whisper over Shiro’s shoulder.

That didn't bode well. "Can you smell any bandits?" 

“No.” Adam shook his head. “But it’s very still. There’s no wind at all and the birds went silent some time ago. I imagine we’ve entered some sort of ward.”

"On your guard," Shiro hissed to the group. "We let them take what they want. I won't have any of you hurt over a fake shipment." 

Annalys and Oriax nodded, red hair and feathers hidden under their hoods. 

The only sound was the soft thump-clack of the horses’ hooves and the rattle of the wheels over the trodden road. Shiro frowned. Maybe they were being too silent; a usual supply caravan wouldn’t be anywhere near this tense or funereal. 

He opened his mouth to strike up a conversation with Adam about the weather or magic or anything mundane, but Adam jerked his head around suddenly. 

“Shi-!” His words were cut off by an explosion that sent the lead cart and all of its occupants flying through the air. He didn’t get to see it land since Adam blocked his view as he threw himself over Shiro. They both slammed hard into packed dirt. Shiro’s shoulder stung and he hissed under Adam’s weight. 

_ Always an arm _ , Shiro thought ruefully. The comfy life of a King's Mage and impromptu father may have softened his muscles, but his war instincts were still sharp. Ignoring his shoulder, he pushed Adam down so that he could peer over the side of the cart. 

Whoever was attacking them shot explosives from the safety of the trees. Clouds of smoke and dust filled the air with every explosion. He searched the battle for a rabid familiar or an insane mage, but he couldn’t see very far. The light changed and he looked up.

Annalys and Oriax had taken flight, casting a shadow over the forest floor turned battlefield. The others drew swords and shields hidden under the cart's tarps. 

Shiro clenched his fist, turning Adam invisible. "Bring them out from hiding," he commanded. 

His familiar hardly needed to be told twice. Adam was already rippling with tan fur and sprouting sharp teeth. When his front paws hit the ground, he was entirely puma. He tore off toward the tree line, the flying clods of dirt dug up by his claws the only thing visible as he ran. 

A warning screech from above signaled that Oriax had found something. Shiro scanned the sky. There, circling above the trees. Annalys pointed and just as she did a flurry of arrows blackened the sky. Oriax shot up above it.

The arrows were clearly enchanted with something deeply unpleasant. They trailed black mist in an arc behind the shafts, blotting out even more of the late spring sky. 

Shiro grabbed a sword from under the tarp and rushed towards the forest as arrows thunked into the soil. As he splayed his palm in the air, the battlefield brightened, somewhat negating the dark haze of the mist. He held his wooden arm to his nose, careful not to breathe in the putrid smoke.

He was almost to the treeline where Adam had disappeared when the floor rippled like waves. The trees trembled as their roots tried desperately to grasp at the ground that was betraying them. Shiro crouched to wait out Adam’s earthquake, nose still covered. Bodies fell from the trees with bone breaking cracks and others were thrown out of their brush cover by the wave of earth and stone. 

One unfortunate bandit landed at his feet. Almost on reflex, Shiro clubbed him over the head with the hilt of his sword. The sickening thump had the bandit on the ground permanently. He lunged forward, sinking his sword into the next as Adam’s form shimmered into existence beside him. Together they ripped through attacker after attacker, claws and sword leaving nothing but bodies in their wake.

Even as he fought, Shiro tried to take in as much as he could about their attackers. They’d risked everything to get information with this caravan and Shiro refused to waste it.

From the look of their clothes and slipshod swords, their attackers were little more than commonfolk. Besides the strangely enchanted arrows, there were no frothing familiars or mad magi as had been reported. They  _ were _ a step above bandits and clearly after something, but this didn’t seem like the sort of enemy that would be able to kill trained mage after highly-trained mage.

Adam growled and pounced an attacker behind him. Shiro turned- directly into a cloud of black smoke. He coughed. The smoke stung his eyes and he fell to his knees. All his energy was sapped from his bones, leaving him empty. Something was wrong. Horribly wrong. “Adam!” he choked out, coughing oil from his lungs. 

He had to get up, had to stand. If he stayed on his knees he was vulnerable and wouldn’t be able to protect Adam. Shiro blinked through the dark mist that even his light magic couldn’t penetrate. It fizzled out every time he tried to snap it into existence, and more worrisome was that every time he tried, it felt like his mana was being sucked straight out of his body. 

“Adam!” he called again. Shiro was mostly sure he was standing. He could hear the clash of swords and the thwip of arrows all around him. Reaching out blindly, he gasped for breath and tried to feel his way to Adam through their bond. 

His hand connected with grass, with torn up clumps of dirt, and finally with damp fur. The bond solidified and Adam’s ribcage heaved under his touch. 

“Master.” His voice was thin and reedy. “Something...something’s wrong. My mana…”

Now that he was touching Adam, he didn’t need to be told. It was empty, gone, a hole where the pool used to be. With rising nausea, Shiro realized he was the same. 

“It’s going to be okay. I’m here.” Shiro felt around again and found the side of a cart, a hilt, and then Adam’s hand. “Can you shift?”

“I...think so.” There was a rustling sound and then Shiro’s hand was resting on slick flesh. “Your pool is gone. I can’t feel it. What do we do?” 

“Thank the goddesses.” He grasped Adam to him, pressing him against his chest. Adam let out a pained hiss but pressed closer. “We need to fight our way out. It’s too dangerous like this. I can’t signal to Oriax or to anyone,” he said into the crook of Adam’s neck. 

Adam’s skin was unusually clammy. He patted blindly around Shiro’s jaw and neck, dragging his fingers down until he found a fistful of tabard to cling to. “...I believe my leg might be broken.”

In the panic of the moment, Shiro hadn't thought that anything could be more wrong than a depleted mana pool. He pushed aside the panic that rose to his throat. Adam would be fine, Shiro would make sure of it. "Do you think you can get on my back?" 

His Familiar didn’t reply - not at first. He groaned and Shiro could hear an uncomfortable grinding sound that set his teeth on edge. 

“Get to Oriax and Annalys.” Adam’s voice scraped through his throat. “I will be fine. But you must not let them get away.” 

“I’m not leaving you. We get out of this together or not at all, you know that.” Shiro pressed his lips to Adam’s head.

“Foolish, stubborn Magi…”

Hoisting him onto his back, Shiro grunted. The smoke was clearing and he wished it wouldn’t. Bodies lay stacked on each other, mostly his men. The attackers were systematically relieving all bodies of their heads. Ducking low, he crept behind the cart, trying to find the shadow of Oriax. 

From his left, a different mass emerged - first the wicked end of an axe and then the face of a large, leather-clad bandit. A black swathe of cloth covered his nose and mouth, keeping the smoke out, but his eyes were clear, focused, and enraged. He raised the axe above his head, aiming directly for Shiro’s skull. 

Shiro’s hand clenched but there was no sword in it. He’d lost it in the black smoke at some point. Instead, he was squeezing Adam’s thigh, drawing a low groan from his familiar. He stumbled away a few paces, trying to block the attack with his body. If he took the brunt of it, there might be a chance for Adam to escape.

A heavy, meaty sound - a quick  _ thwump thwump thwump - _ breezed past Shiro’s ear.

The axe fell to the side. The man’s eyes widened with shock as he slowly looked down to find a series of arrows embedded in his chest. He stood, staring at them, perplexed and frozen, before his body fell alongside his axe. More arrows rained over their heads, and the strange black smoke swirled and dissipated. 

Shiro could breathe again without the oily sludge sticking to the insides of his lungs. “Are you hurt?” he asked Adam, searching for a way out. He didn’t care who shot the man, all he cared about was getting  _ out. _ Instead of an escape, his eyes clashed the person who’d felled their attacker.

He didn’t see much of the archer. They were slender, clad all in muted grey leather and wool, with a wraparound cloak that obscured their face. They looked down at Shiro, catching his eyes for only a moment before pulling the hood of the cloak up over a flash of pale silver hair. Then they were running, but in their wake, another figure stopped short. 

This was clearly a young woman, blonde hair falling around her face as she stopped and reached a hand toward his familiar.

Shiro reared back but stopped when Adam gripped his shoulders. “You,” he said, rough in Shiro's ear.

The woman smiled and placed her hand on Adam’s head. As she did, a pool of light opened beneath them, ruffling their clothes and hair. Motes of white floated up and burst on contact, soft and small as soap bubbles. As she concentrated, the woman shimmered in and out of sight, and in her place was the distinct shape of a willowy white mare - or what would have been a mare, if not for the long, twisting horn.

“It can’t be,” Shiro said, blinking to clear the vision from his eyes. 

She transferred her touch to Shiro’s forehead. The ripple of her magic fluttered through him as she said, light and teasing, “Be a little more careful next time, King’s Mage, okay?” 

“Who-” he started to ask, but then his head swam, darkness took over his vision, and the grass rose to meet him. 

~🍄~

Shiro blinked and he was staring up at a ceiling. A head full of feathers partially blocked his view of the low support beams. 

“You’re awake. Anny, Shiro’s awake,” Oriax called over his shoulder. 

“Wha-” This wasn’t the forest and it wasn’t his room. Groaning, he sat up. Dusk poured rosey sun through the window and splayed long shadows across the bed. The quilt was threadbare and patched and unfamiliar. 

Oriax pushed against his chest. “You shouldn’t get up, Shiro. You’ve been out for a whole day and there might be some lingering effects from the poisoned dusk.” 

“Shiro!” Annalys’ red head popped into the room. “Adam is still asleep,” she said without having to be asked. “He’s fine, but whatever got you both got you good. We weren’t sure how we were going to explain a dead King’s Mage to the king. Ori, get him some water?”

“Of course.” Oriax pushed away from the bed and left Annalys alone with Shiro. She dunked a rag into a bucket of cool water and wrung it out, wiping the sweat from his forehead with practiced efficiency. 

“How do you feel? You hit your head pretty hard when you fell.”

“I think the - the poisoned dusk really got me.” He rolled his shoulder. It felt fine. “I thought I dislocated my shoulder, but I think was hallucinating, so I’m not sure.” Shiro squeezed his eyes shut when a few droplets of water ran down his forehead. There were so many holes in his memory that he couldn’t piece together. “How did we escape?”

“Telling it true? I’m not sure. We lost sight of you after the explosion, and when things calmed down, you just sort of...reappeared. Like you’d been hidden or something, but your mana was drained, right? You probably just barely managed a distortion spell before you blacked out.” She dipped and wrung the cloth again, placing it on the back of his neck. “It was impossible to see through it all. From what the survivors said, it sounded like we had some mystery help.” 

Shiro took her hand in his. “Thank you, for getting us out of there. I think we might have gotten in between a turf war and if you and Ori hadn’t come for us. I- I don’t want to think what would’ve happened to Adam. His leg, more than his leg, I think he was hiding all his injuries from me. Have you called a healer?”

Her green eyes were kind as she squeezed his hand and then forced him back down. “He was tended to hours ago. It took a while, but they got him sorted and…” At the look on his face she shook her head and huffed a laugh. “Why don’t you follow me, then, and you can see him,  _ cha _ ? Clear enough you won’t settle down and rest until you do.” 

It took more effort than Shiro wanted to let on to heft himself out of bed. He leaned heavily on Annalys as she led them to the main room. Shiro was glad she was so strong; he was not a light man. 

It had been many years since he had visited Annalys and Oriax in their own home. The only reason they had a cottage of their own was because no one at the tower could remember the last time a strix had been summoned and even better, knew little to nothing about the species. Once they came of age, Shiro pulled a few strings in thanks for their part in Keith’s life. He’d made up some research about young strix requiring some amount of space to fly and how it would be better if he wasn’t crammed into the dorms - things he couldn’t remember if he tried. The cottage they had been given was small - two rooms and a cramped kitchen, really - but it was warm and well lived in. There were plants in every windowsill and empty teacups littered around, as well as stray downy feathers on the floor and other general detritus: a crumpled cloak, a pile of parchment with an old cracked quill, a misshapen rug bunched under the single table. 

It was only a few paces to where Adam lay in the small bed by the fireplace that was probably meant for Oriax, but had seen little use for many years. 

“Adam,” Shiro breathed out his name. He launched himself from Annalys’ hold to land on the floor by the bed, grabbing his familiar’s hand. “Praise the stars you’re safe.”

His familiar must have sensed him through the bond, because his face scrunched and he stirred. “Master? Have I overslept?” 

“No,” Shiro said, brushing the bangs from Adam’s face. “There’s still plenty of night left. Go back to sleep.” He bent to kiss his forehead. 

“Mm.” Adam pressed into the touch. “Come to bed, love. You work too hard.”

A soft smile flitted across Shiro’s face before it turned hard. “In a moment and then I’ll join you. Wait for me.” He kissed Adam again and squeezed his hand. Adam sighed peacefully and turned on his side. Turning to Annalys, he asked silently for help.

She nodded and helped him off the floor and into the small sitting area. 

Oriax reappeared with water and some hot tea. “Should we all acknowledge the alarming truth we’ve yet to discuss?” 

“And what’s that, Ori?” Shiro asked as he sat heavily in an overly plush chair. The cushions sunk, enfolding him in their feathery grasp. He wondered if that was where all of Oriax’s feathers went when he molted. 

“The fact that we were attacked with poisoned dusk? Which is only made at the Magerium, and which our little dragon’s Master was making when the tower burned?” 

Shiro sighed. “It’s a coincidence. Magi Fuentes might’ve been making it, but he didn’t finish, that much was obvious. The two aren’t related.”

“Maybe not this particular batch, but…” Oriax’s feathers ruffled up and smoothed - a sign of irritation or frustration, Shiro had come to learn. “I may not have hatched yet but, is it not true that poisoned dusk hasn’t been made or used since the Border War?”

“Well…” The old ache of his mana refilling made him want to fall asleep right in the overstuffed chair. He was getting too old for this. “To the Magerium’s knowledge, no, it hasn’t. Or, it shouldn’t be used at least. But it’s entirely possible that someone outside our walls, a defector of some kind, could’ve shared the recipe.”

“I also didn’t see a single familiar.” Annalys poured herself a cup of tea as if it were a tankard of ale. “Rabid or otherwise. Or any other animals, in fact.” 

“We weren't fighting mages. In fact, they seemed to be very good at taking mages _ down _ . Trained, even.” He sent Annalys a pointed look. “That, I think, is more important. It would explain the connection to poisoned dusk.”

She sighed and took a loud, slurping sip of her tea. “Fuck me, but I hate Mage Hunters.” 

“I still think there’s a connection we’re missing,” Oriax said at last. He leaned over to pour a clear bottle into Annalys’ tea. Shiro could smell the homemade alcohol from there. “Any missed connections could spell trouble for all of us.”

Annalys took a grateful sip. “I think you’re right on that point, love - I just can’t imagine any ragtag group of Mage Hunters taking down Iverson. So who’s helping them? And come to think, who was it that came to take them  _ out? _ Shiro, you don’t remember anything at all?”

He shook his head. “I was too out of it. I think they put something in the poisoned dusk, it wasn’t the same that I’ve dealt with before. I was hallucinating. I can’t be sure what was real. Adam might know something, but we’d have to wait until he wakes. I don’t want to bother him after he was - It’s better to let him rest.”

“Well, what did you hallucinate? And are you certain that’s what it was?” Oriax pushed his glasses up his nose, fixing Shiro with that discerning gaze he adopted when he was not so much observing as he was analyzing. “If any of the other survivors had similar hallucinations, that would be a variable worth looking into.”

“No, I’m positive it was a hallucination. It couldn’t be anything else. I dreamed I saw a unicorn.” Shiro snorted hearing himself say it out loud. “A unicorn of all things.” He shook his head.

“...Oh.” Oriax and Annalys exchanged a look and they both cracked into matching smiles. “Well, then, yes - I believe we can confidently say that was a hallucination.” 

“I do think right before that, I saw one of them with a gray cloak hiding their face. I don’t know any faction that wears gray, though.” Shiro looked off into the distance trying to remember where reality ended and the dream began. 

“You are all very loud, and none of you have offered me tea,” Adam’s sleepy voice interrupted their musings. He sat up and glared at them from the corner bed, disheveled in the firelight. 

“Oh, you cranky puma.” Shiro held his arms open. “Ori, can you bring my whining cat something to drink?”

Oriax chuckled. “Certainly.” 

“Sit.” Annalys caught Oriax’s arm and tugged him back down. “You’ve done enough, let me.”

As the two of them shared a soft look, Adam teetered on his feet and staggered over to Shiro, collapsing onto his lap. “I hate to say this, dearheart,” he murmured into Shiro’s shoulder, “but I believe we may have lost that battle.”

Shiro buried his face into Adam’s neck, encircling him. “Don’t remind me.” A tap on his head had him pulling back and he waited as Adam took the mug from Annalys. He sipped it with a sigh. 

“How are you feeling? I can call the healers again if you need,” Shiro said after he’d finished taking a few sips. Adam fit so perfectly in his arms and his weight was so familiar a comfort in Shiro’s lap that he couldn’t help but squeeze the tired man to his chest. 

“Just exhausted, nothing more.” Adam’s fingers combed through the white fringe at the front of Shiro’s hair, pushing it back just to watch it fall. “So stop all of that needless frowning. You’re the one always complaining about looking older, are you not? No need for new wrinkles simply because I got a bit bumped and bruised.” 

Kissing the inside of his neck, Shiro sighed against his skin. “I’m just happy you’re safe.” Using Adam’s head as a pillow he turned to look at Annalys and Oriax who were now seated on the floor and using the other as a rest. “I’m glad you are both safe as well.”

Annalys waved him off. “It’d take a lot more than a bit of dust and some fellows in old dish rags to take us out.  _ Cha,  _ Ori?” 

“Nothing in this world could take you down.” Oriax nuzzled her and pulled her into his lap. “You’re the strongest hen I’ve ever met.”

She turned to Shiro and Adam, grinning. “Aye, see? Strongest hen, that’s me.” 

Shiro chuckled and Adam hid his smile behind his hand. “No one ever doubted it, Anny,” Shiro said as he tipped Adam’s cup back to upright before it spilled on them both.

“Now that we’ve all established we’re quite good at surviving despite being so woefully thrashed in battle,” Adam griped, rubbing his temple against Shiro’s in an uncharacteristically public display of affection. “Can we  _ please  _ go to sleep?” 

“Who’s old now,” Shiro asked with a smirk. 

“That’s right, old man. Can’t stay up for some after battle spirits?” Oriax shook the clear bottle enticingly.

Adam sniffed. “Call me whatever you wish, just do so in the morning. I would like to be well-enfolded in the strong and decidedly naked arms of my Master within the next quarter candlemark, and if you stay around any longer than that, all you will receive for the trouble is an eyeful of the King’s Mage’s back end.” 

“You win.” Oriax said, lifting Annalys into his arms with a grunt. “I’m not sticking around to see the old geezer’s hairy ass. C’mon Mistress, we’ll drink outside.”

“Here here.” She threw her arms around his neck happily. “Sleep tight, you grumpy, useless old moss-rocks.” 

With that, the cabin quieted. The distant whooping from outside the walls as the younger pair continued their party and the buzz of night bugs were the only sounds. Shiro took Adam’s mug and placed it on a side table. “You’re really going to lay me bare, here, in the middle of this room?” 

“And why not? I’m not sure about you, but it was really rather a rough day for me, and I’ll seek comfort when and where I choose. And there’s very little more comforting than feeling all that hard muscle at once.” 

“I’m not sure that this  _ old man _ even has muscles left,” Shiro grumbled.

Adam’s fingers wrapped around the back of his neck and drew him in. “Well,” he half-purred. “Why don’t you let me see and I’ll be the judge of that?” 

~🍄~

Summer

They weren't homeless. Not technically. 

At least, they had a roof over their heads. It was more holes than roof, but it  _ was _ a roof in theory. Their  _ accommodations, _ as Greeve had called it, were in the Deepmist forest, right at the base of the Frost Ridge mountains. It wasn’t called the “Deepmist” for nothing, either. The air was humid and misty even in the late morning and everything felt dark, over-green, and close. It made Keith twitchy and nervous. 

In short: the armpit of Belwald where no one in their right mind would ever choose to go. 

Lance walked through the doorless entry to survey the sad excuse passing as four walls. Weeds and vines obscured the house to the point that it looked like part of the forest itself. The fireplace was cracked and most of the chimneystack sat crumbled in the pit. Something with too many legs skittered across the floor and it took all of Lance’s willpower not to jump into Keith’s arms. He wrinkled his nose. 

Beside him, Keith had his arms crossed, surveying what was left of...whatever this had once been...with a critical and unimpressed eye. “What was this built for in the first place?” he scoffed. “Why does the Magerium own an overgrown shack in the middle of the Deepmist?” 

"Uh.” Lance searched his memory for his old history lessons. “ I think these places were for hunters. The ones that were commissioned to find rare ingredients for the guild, when it was a guild. There's little places like this all over Belwald," he said distracted. He was more concerned how they were going to patch this place up until they could fix it. Mushrooms wouldn't do; that would just make the inside wet as soon as they popped and the Deepmist was already wet enough. 

“Mm.” Keith eyed the roof and its sagging, rotten wood. “So the same ones who hunted dragons into extinction?” 

That shocked Lance back into the conversation. “Yes,” he said, voice quiet. Shifting from foot to foot, he looked everywhere except at Keith, feeling awkward and useless. “Sorry.” 

Keith’s tail twitched, but there was no other indication of his mood. “Well there’s not much for it. The roof has to come off at least.” So they were ignoring the whole thing; Lance could live with that. “You can’t salvage much when the wood is already rotten.” A thought occurred to him and he glanced thoughtfully at Lance. “Hey - can you use your water magic to sort of...suck out the water? Dry the wood and the vines?” 

Lance dried things now and then. It was easy to pull the water and let it fall somewhere else, usually the floor or a nearby pot. He’d never done this much all at once and definitely not in a place so wet. "I can try, but where would I put the water?" He looked around for some kind of bucket or… _ better idea. _ "Can you carve us out a well?" 

Keith tilted his head to consider the ground. It was soft and moist, much like everything else in the stars-accursed Deepmist. “If we can find some clay I can. I’d have to pack the walls and fire them. Otherwise it would just cave in. What about just...I don’t know, watering the plants?” 

Lance fanned himself with his tunic. That sounded like it would encourage the weeds to encroach on them more. "I'd be turning this place into a swamp. We're already sinking into this muck as it is…What if I put it into mushrooms and you flew them away? Then they can burst on someone else's front porch." 

“That is more work than what I was suggesting, which was for you to dry the wood and vines so that I could burn them.” With a sigh, Keith shifted his weight, making a face at the squelch that came from the moss. “How about...you work on the vines. I’ll work on the wood. I’m stronger than you. And I can fly.” 

"You want to burn down our house?" Lance gaped at Keith in disbelief. "Then we won't have anything." 

Keith rolled his eyes. “No, idi-uhhh Master. I want to get rid of the rotten beams so we can put in new ones. It would be simpler to do it by localized burning, but if they’re this wet, all it’ll do is smoke us out. So. Manual labor it is.” 

Lance stomped, his feet squelching. "This is going to take  _ moons _ . Where are we going to sleep while we do all this, huh?" 

“Trees?” 

“Trees. Really?” Lance rolled his head, to stare at Keith from the side of his eye.

Keith looked up at the canopy of green and pinched his mouth into a line. “We could camp in the house to keep out of the rain if we can clear the ground today.” 

“Of course,” Lance said drily, “that is provided we don’t sink into the ground first.”

“Or just drown.”

“Or drown, yes.” 

After another few minutes of collective sulking, Lance set about pulling the dampness from the house. It took a bit of setting up, and a lot of climbing and cutting, but eventually he had a bundle of thick vines reaching away from the doorless entry and into the woods. 

Concentrating on the way he pulled water to fill his mushrooms, he filled the vines. It was much harder trying to pull it from the damp wood and straw since everything around them was just as wet. It was like trying to cut out water from a river; whatever he emptied seemed to immediately fill back up, but eventually he had a good flow. Pull the water from the wood, push it into the vines. The vines did the rest of the job, filtering water through their systems and dripping it into the forest floor away from the house.

It took forever. Pulling water specifically from organic material to push into other organic material was much harder than Lance had imagined it would be. The wood and straw didn’t want to let go, and he struggled to separate them. He was sweating and panting by the time he dried out the last board. 

Keith hadn’t been slacking either. When he returned, it was with an absolutely massive bundle of kindling and a rabbit for supper. 

Dropping his twigs in front of the door, Keith stepped back and admired Lance’s handiwork. When he found his Master, puffing and exhausted, he actually looked proud.

“Well done, Master. That was clever.” Keith smiled at him and held up the rabbit enticingly. “Hungry?”

“Oh!” Lance turned to see Keith holding up a snared rabbit and tried for a smile. “You caught a bunny.”

Keith looked at it and then back at Lance. “Oh, right, you have a thing with...yeah. Well, I caught supper. Try to think of it that way. And, you know - don’t watch.” 

“Supper, yeah.” His shirt was sticking to him in the worst way. He fanned himself and nodded at Keith’s bundle. “What’s that for?”

“Huh?” 

“The wood.” Lance pointed at the pile. “What’s it for? Don’t tell me I spent hours drying this shit shack out while you were relieving the forest of its twig supply for no reason.”

“Oh! Uh. Yeah.” Keith shook himself and coughed. Facing away from Lance, he knelt on the stone floor to start skinning the rabbit. “They, uh, are a basis for the hay and mud. Then I’ll place titles, after I make them, anyway.”

“It’ll be nice to have a roof.” Lance knelt down next to Keith, face firmly fixed on their patchwork ceiling. Keith’s claws were more nimble than any knife and Keith was more skilled than any master leatherworker. Lance usually loved to watch him work, but not so much on bunnies. “You’re quite knowledgeable with these things.”

His face was impassive but Keith’s wings ruffled with pride. “Part of my training with Adam. No knowing where your Master’s work will take you, so you have to be prepared to keep him alive. Hunting, shelter, fishing, that sort of thing. If I can get my hands on a few tools I can make this place pretty comfortable.” 

With the rabbit skinned, Keith set the pelt aside where Lance wouldn’t be able to see it easily and skewered the meat. He took a few seconds to blow on it until it was cooked and crispy, if a little charred. “Oops. Too much. Sorry.” He passed the stick to Lance. 

The weight of the rabbit was more than Lance had prepared for and it tipped dangerously close to the ground. He grabbed it with both hands and held it upright. “Thanks.” He did his best not to think about what he was eating as he bit into it. It was a little dry and bland without seasoning, but Lance didn’t complain as he nibbled around the burnt bits.

Leaning back, Keith peered up through the trees to judge the light. “What’s the Deepmist like, anyway?” 

“Hm. I grew up on the coast, far outside Highmount, so not much. I do know that it was considered too dangerous for mages to go themselves and that’s why hunters were hired to search for ingredients.” Lance grew quiet and stared out into the mists, his rabbit sagging in his hand. “I did hear things though. A legend…” He shook his head to break out of the trance the mist threatened to place him under. “But, that’s just youngling tales, you don’t want to know about that.”

Ears pricking forward with interest, Keith focused his attention back on Lance. “Yes I do. Shiro never told me any.” At Lance’s skeptical look, Keith’s tail thrashed and he whined. “Come on, please? Not like we have anything better to do while you eat.”

Lance tore off a strip of meat and sucked on it before eating it. He chewed slowly. With a swallow, his eyes turned back to the forest mists. 

"A long time ago, before even my grandmother's time, back when the Goddess still spoke with us, there was this man. He was a beggar thrown out of his town and ended up crawling into the forest in search of food. Moret felt sorry for him, she invited him in, let him take what he needed. He would cut down the trees for shelter and hunt the game for food. Still he wasn’t satisfied so the Goddess pointed out her fields of flowers. ‘Pick my flowers and green things to sell,’ she told him.” At Keith's confused look, Lance explained, “Back then there wasn't mist and it was called the Golden Forest. Some say it was because everything inside was worth its weight in gold, others say it was due to the color of the trees. Either way, there was no mist and it was as beautiful as Moret herself." Lance paused to see if Keith was listening.

He needn’t have worried. Keith was all ears, tail wagging like a metronome. 

"He would sing as he harvested the forest for everything it had, not caring that he was a guest and everything still belonged to Moret. He grew rich as the forest grew poor and happy as the forest grew angry." Lance took a bite and chewed, in no hurry to continue. 

Keith waited. And waited. “ _ And?”  _ he finally promoted, annoyed. 

Lance smiled behind the cover of his rabbit. "The man would sing and laugh as he stole without returning anything. Not even a prayer of thanks to Moret. The man had grown so vain that he laughed at the forest as he collected his plunder. He yelled at Moret, cursing her name and bragging how he didn’t need to collect for himself anymore- he was rich enough to send a whole army in his stead. That's when the mists arrived."

"They circled around him, trapped him forever. They warped and disfigured his form until he was so terrifying looking at him stops your heart. Cursed to serve the forest he'd taken advantage of as its guardian, he wanders through the trees wherever the mist is thickest. He kills anyone who tries to enter, thinking they're after his own wealth.” Lance leaned forward, voice dropping low. “He sings as he hunts. They say his song sounds like wind through trees and rust on metal. If you hear it, he's coming for you. He will rip you apart and bury your organs in the earth." Lance finished by tearing a chunk of rabbit with his teeth.

Keith’s grin was wide and wicked. “That would be so awesome.” 

"It is nowhere near awesome.” Lance frowned at him with puffing cheeks full of meat. “Stars, I hope that he stays far away from us if he is real. I'm rather attached to my organs." 

“Well, he can try. I’ll just fly us out. But I doubt it’s true. Shiro always said there was no point in telling those stories when there were plenty of real things to be wary of. He thought it was more productive to read aloud from his depressing old history books or alchemical scrolls.”

"The mist monster might not be real, but the Goddesses are. He has to have taught you the Creed of the Nine. Tell me he taught you at least that." Lance stared at Keith incredulously. 

Keith shrugged. “No. Not like dragons need help to be magical. I don’t even know if Shiro bought into all that nonsense.”

"Nonsense?” Lance scoffed. He stared at Keith, eyes growing wide when he realized Keith wasn’t kidding. “The Creed of the Nine and the Annals of the Embrace are not  _ nonsense _ ." 

“No more or less than any other fairytale, I guess.” Keith was clearly only half-listening once more. He’d pulled a knife from his belt and was busy cutting a reed into smaller strips. 

Impossible. Lance would have never guessed a  _ familiar _ of the  _ Magerium _ wouldn’t believe in the Goddesses. He slapped the stone floor and leaned into Keith’s space. “They are  _ not _ fairytales.”

Keith glanced up at him and then back down to his work. “As you say, Master.”

Lance shook his head as he sat back, still stuck in this new revolution. "I can't believe my own familiar is a nullstar." 

“Well.” Tossing the reeds to the corner for later use, Keith stretched his arms up. “We have all the time we could possibly want for you to tell me all about it. Stop gawking at me and finish your food.” 

Lips greasy with oil, Lance held out his skewer. “Sorry. I probably ate more than my half.”

“Oh.” Keith looked down at the half-eaten rabbit and back up at him, shifting a little. “That’s all yours.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You need to eat too.” Lance pressed the stick into Keith’s hands. “I’m full, I promise.”

Keith pressed it right back, but he averted his eyes. “I - ah - took care of it already. While I was...out.” 

Lance stared down at the cooked rabbit and then back up at Keith. “You already cooked yours?” 

Distinctly uncomfortable, Keith shook his head. “Advantages of primal form. Don’t worry about it. We should get back to work.”

Right, Keith was a dragon. He only had to cook meat if he wanted. Lance looked back down at his skewer. Keith’d only cooked one for him. “You know, if you’d rather eat out there, I can make my own food.”

“I don’t  _ prefer  _ it,” Keith snapped, arms crossing defensively. “You think I went twenty years excusing myself at mealtimes to go roam the forest?” 

“I didn’t think-”

“Obviously. If you’d thought then you’d-” Keith bit his tongue, a low growl rumbling through his chest. At the sound he shrunk down into himself, not looking at Lance. “Finish your supper so we can get back to work.”

Lance was already full, but it didn’t look like Keith would appreciate him talking back. He nibbled for a while as they sat in silence and Keith sulked. After what Lance felt was enough time that Keith wouldn’t snap at him if he stopped eating, he licked his fingers clean and wiped his mouth on his arm. Placing his skewer down on the dirty floor, he stood and held out his hand. A peace offering. “C’mon you grumpy dragon. There’s still lots of work to do.”

Keith glanced between Lance and his hand, wary. Then his face relaxed into a wry smile, and he let himself be pulled to his feet. 

They worked the rest of the light hours away clearing the ground and patching the roof. Lance worked on finding anything for beds. The forest wasn't the kind that had straw growing wild. The best he could do was some rushes he found by a stream a ways away. 

While he was gone, Keith had the roof patched well enough that if it rained, it probably wouldn't drip too much. Together they strung up his armfuls of rushes with the vines to make a very thin bedding. The whole time, Lance told him story after story of the Nine. 

It wasn’t until Lance was well into retelling individual stories within the Annals of the Embrace that he realized Keith was only vaguely listening as he undid their bedrolls on top of their brand new and extremely depressing bedding. Clearly, his dragon was less interested in the wondrous happenings and miracles of the Nine than he was in the base, spooky stories meant to scare children. Keith had devolved into giving occasional, disinterested grunts by the time he was stacking kindling in the remnants of the fireplace. 

“-and then the sea monster swallowed Mairo whole and all hearths were left unprotected. Thousands died that night. Including me.”

“Oh, really?” Keith asked blandly, reaching his hand into the burgeoning flames to rearrange a few logs. “Huh.”

“Yep. The whole world went dark and we all exploded. We don’t exist. It’s over. Poof.” Lance glared at the back of Keith’s head.

“Mmhmm.” Blowing on the kindling helped coax the embers into small licks of flame. “Go on.”

“You’re not listening.” Lance threw a pebble at Keith, hitting him square on the back of the head. “ _ Salamander _ .”

Keith’s head snapped around. “Hey! I was too, but this stuff’s boring! I liked it better when there was dismemberment.” He chucked a piece of ancient coal half-heartedly towards Lance. 

“These are important stories! And you were not. You didn’t even react to the sea monster.”

“So I was listening up until Whatshername was offended by the Air guy for his table manners or whatever.” Keith stood and brushed off his pants. 

Now that the fire was really catching, the inside of the cabin felt a little bit drier, a little cozier. He could envision the way it would look eventually: a small, snug little burrow where Lance could make his potions uninterrupted while Keith lazed in the fireplace. They could eat little meals from their garden and take picnics out to the cliffs where Keith could fly them in seconds. It almost looked like a life could be lived here, if he squinted.

Keith must've taken his squinting to mean that he was still irritated because he chuckled and said, “Alright, I’m sorry. You can tell me all about it tomorrow while I’m making tiles. And I promise to listen.”

Lance sighed, but nodded. “You better. I can’t have my familiar uneducated in the goddesses when they are the ones that bless me with magic.”

Keith hummed in acknowledgment. 

The last of the purple light was leaving the sky and he frowned. “I should set up some kind of barrier or perimeter alarm. Will you be alright here while I do that?” 

“Of course. I’ll probably be asleep when you get back.” Lance tucked his knees to his chest. “Try not to be too loud.”

Rolling his eyes, Keith grabbed the discarded rabbit to dispose of in the forest and kicked a rock towards Lance on the way out. “I’ll do my best not to trip over our many furnishings.”

Lance didn’t sleep right away. Despite the warm fire, the doorless entryway and hollow windows made him feel too exposed. He thought if he waited long enough, Keith would come home and he could relax. That didn’t happen. Keith didn’t return even after the fire grew small, the tiny flames licking just above the ashy wood. He gave up on waiting and tried his best to let sleep find him. 

He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep when shuffling drew him from his dream. Half aware of Keith’s return, he relaxed as warmth curled at his feet, and he pressed against it. The creepy cabin faded and he was back in the dorm with Keith snoring under his bed. Lance sighed as sleep settled around him and dragged him back down once more.

Eventually, however, even Keith’s return couldn’t keep Lance from tossing and turning as nightmares of empty doorways and mist monsters filled his dreams. Keith grumbled and kicked him, waking him enough so that he lay in that in-between state of dream and reality. High pitched whistling cut through the chirp of insects and crackling wood. 

Snapping from his dream, he blinked into the darkness. Lance froze, ears straining to see if he’d dreamed the sound. 

There it was again. 

Lance relaxed. It was just Keith.

“Keith, stop snoring.” He kicked the warm lump at his feet.

Keith snorted and rolled over. The whistling came again.

Lance sat up, eyes wide as he tried to see through the darkness and into the mist. The fire ebbed and flowed with Keith’s breathing, glowing too dim to help. “Keith,” he hissed, kicking him again.

“M’not snoring.” His dragon growled and weakly swiped at him, missing entirely. “ _ You  _ stop snoring.”

“Wake up.” Lance kicked him harder. “I hear something outside.” 

Finally, Keith sat up, groggy and frowning. “It’s a forest, there’s all kinds of stuff outsi-” He was interrupted by the strange, eerie whistling. It was long and unbroken, the kind of hollow sound that came from blowing across the top of a panpipe. His ears went flat but his tail stood straight up as he rolled to his knees, now very much awake. “Whatwasthat.” 

“I don’t know.” Lance’s hand reached out for Keith automatically. A hum followed the whistling in a quiet, unsettling dirge. He found Keith’s leg in the dark and squeezed, scared that if he let go, Keith would run off to fight it.

Instead, Keith did the exact opposite. He scrambled closer to Lance and pressed against him, drawing his wings up in a way that was either a protective shield or a manic defensive instinct. His tail thrashed as his eyes darted between the open windows. “...It’s...it’s just the wind, right? That’s just what it sounds like in the trees?” 

Lance nodded. “Yeah, just the wind.” 

The humming was interrupted by a sudden howl. 

Lance shook his head. “No, nevermind, definitely not the wind.” He pulled Keith down to him, half crawling into his dragon’s lap.

“Probably a wolf,” Keith said with false confidence. He licked his lips and gripped Lance, listening for anything else. When the howling quieted, it was replaced by another whistle and bizarre, guttural clicking, he swallowed. “I...I should go check it out.” 

“No!” Lance coughed and buried his head into Keith’s chest. “What if it comes here while you’re gone?” he whispered into over-hot skin.

Now the wing-shield was definitely protective and Keith tugged him closer, his claws dangerously close to ripping Lance’s tunic. “Yeah, that’s a good plan,” he said, a little too quickly. “Can’t,” he cleared his throat. “Can’t be too careful.” His sentence ended on something suspiciously like a squeak when the whistle started up again, louder than ever. 

The dying fire had left the open cabin exposed to the chill of the night. Summer hadn’t fully reached the Deepmist yet and the damp clung to his skin and clothes. Lance hadn’t realized until he was curled in Keith’s arms that he’d been shivering. It was so much  _ colder _ in the woods than the city. “Maybe it would be best if we slept together. That way we can have each other’s backs. Just in case it’s not the wi-” A shrieking wail cut him off, shaking the cabin. Lance yelped and jumped fully into Keith’s lap.

“But it  _ is  _ the wind,” Keith insisted. 

“Even if it’s just the wind, this place isn’t very stable. One of the walls might come down. Push your mat next to mine. We’ll sleep in the center.” Lance didn’t want to let go. Even in his human form, Keith made him feel safe. No matter what that thing was, it didn’t have shit on a dragon. 

Keith followed his master’s orders without question, though it was difficult with Lance wrapped around him like a cuddly snake. After some odd shuffling, Keith had their mats more or less together and their bedrolls pushed alongside each other on top. With his free hand, he held the blanket open for Lance. “If I didn’t think I’d break the house, I would go back to my dragon form but uh...I guess I’ll have to deal with what I’ve got.” 

Lance snuggled under the covers and held out his arms for Keith. His face was hot, but that was probably because it’d been pressed into Keith for so long. “Hurry,” he whined. He wasn’t  _ scared _ , it was just scary. There was a difference. 

It took some maneuvering, but Keith managed to crawl under the covers and into Lance’s arms, while also wrapping him in a wing. “Try to get some sleep,” he murmured, keeping it a secret from whatever was out there. “I’ll keep watch.”

“I’ll stay awake,” Lance said with a yawn. Keith was so warm it made his eyes droop. “Gotta protect you.” The last word was an exhale as Lance succumbed to sleep.

Keith pulled him in a little closer, one hand resting on Lance’s head as he drifted off on Keith’s chest. He started to say something, as if airing it out loud would solidify it more, but thought better of it and opted for a small, secret smile instead. 

By the time the sun broke at dawn and the wind had died down, Keith was just as tangled up in Lance as Lance was in him - and this time, he was definitely snoring. 

~🍄~

It took, in total, around four weeks for Keith to have the cottage in a state where they had nearly everything they needed, and it was secure and cozy enough that they could stop thinking of it as ‘shelter’ and begin thinking of it as ‘home.’ Lance had hung strings of twine across the walls to tether his drying herbs, and in a few necessary supply runs, they had managed to trade or barter for a relatively nice armchair and a large, if faded, rug to cover most of the stone floor. 

It was decidedly rustic - there was no getting around that - but Keith had thrown himself into the task of renovation with single-minded conviction. He continued to rise with his Master, and by the high sun of midday, had usually accomplished more manual labor than Lance did in a month. 

For the past week, his chore had been the construction of a garden that wrapped the whole house. He’d finished the fence the day before, and since dawn, had been hacking away at the ground to dig up enough sod to overlay with topsoil. 

Lance had set up a makeshift workbench that above all was at least clean for potion making. It was pressed up against the far wall, next to one of the cutout windows that still needed shutters. Keith had made a back door for ease of access to his soon-to-be-garden. Lance leaned on the sill as he watched Keith work, abandoning the salve as it boiled away on its own. The Summer sun beat down on Keith’s scales, making them glint as he worked. He’d abandoned his shirt three candlemarks ago, which was about when Lance had abandoned his salves. 

It was a nice break from potions making to watch Keith work and unlike at the Mageirum, he had exponentially less work to complete. Which gave him exponential more time to admire his...new garden. Right. Despite the unfriendly mist, the soil here was quite healthy and good for growing. 

Sweat dripped down Keith’s back and Lance watched the droplets as they wove their way down his muscles. Summer was finally settling in the forest and because of it, clothing seemed to be more of an option for Keith than a necessity. 

With a sigh, Lance pushed away from the window. A few moments later he was leaning against the newly built fence and holding out a glass. “Thirsty?”

Keith looked up, rubbing the back of his wrist across his forehead and leaving a smear of dirt in its wake. For a moment he looked surprised, then he broke into a wide smile. “Thank you. I didn’t expect to see you until suppertime, the way you’ve been focused on that order.” He took the glass and chugged down half the water at once. 

“I’m almost done. I’m worried there isn’t enough work coming in. Our stipend is going to be too-” Gasping, he waved his hands to erase his words. “Don’t worry, I’ll write them to send more. We’ll have plenty of money for market day.” The smell of soil and sweat stuck to the wet air and Lance tried to ignore the whole situation by talking more. “Do you want more water? I could go to the stream and get a whole bucket for you.”

Keith was still smiling as he raised an eyebrow. “You could. But you’re also a water mage, who could pull it out of thin air.”

“Right.” Lance had no idea what he was doing or why he’d come out here in the first place. He waved at Keith’s glass and stared hard at the fence he was leaning on. 

“Whoa.” Keith held the glass away from himself as it overflowed and started pouring water onto the loose soil below, turning it to a wet mush. “That’s, uh, more than I need I think. Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Lance hit his hand against the fence and the water stopped. “Yes. I’m fine. Good? Okay.” He turned on his heel and strode back to the house.

“Whoa, whoa.” Keith dropped his hoe and jogged to catch up with him. “Wait a second. While you’re here, I had something I needed to ask you. Can we talk?”

“The fire,” Lance said, staring directly at a bead of sweat caught in the dip of Keith’s collarbone.

“Hmm?” Keith frowned and reached out to cup Lance’s cheek, staring at him with increasing concern. Lance pushed his hand away and stumbled back a step, eyes wide.

“I left the salve bubbling.”

“You don’t feel overwarm,” Keith murmured to himself, as if Lance hadn’t spoken. He shook his head. “Go on then, I’ll be in once I clean up. Can’t ruin our elegant new rug with all this dirt.” 

“I could-” Lance swallowed his words. Drenching his dragon in an impromptu bath was probably out of line. Clenching his fits, he nodded once. Maybe Keith’s instincts were right, maybe he was coming down with something. “I’ll listen to what you have to say when you’re done.”

Dipping forward in a quick half-bow, Keith headed west in the direction of the stream that was their primary water source. Lance watched him leave then shook his head. This garden was going to be his downfall. 

With a sigh, he turned back into the house just in time to extinguish the fire under his salve. It’d turned a perfect milky color as if he’d been watching it the whole time. He stared at the dwindling crates of bottles that signaled the end of the order and the little amount of cash they’d receive. Lance rubbed his eyes. The last thing he’d do was make Keith bottle after gardening all day. He’d need to do this while Keith was out or else his familiar would insist on helping.

It was only ten minutes at most before Keith, newly clean but with wet, heavy hair, was wiping his feet on the reed mat Lance had insisted on. He gave his hair one last wring and then glanced around, finding Lance staring at the bottles. “Did everything go well?”

“Oh.” Lance jumped. He placed his hand over his heart to calm it down. “I didn’t hear you. Yeah, the order is done.”  _ For the entire moon, _ Lance added to himself. “How did it go with you?”

Keith was giving him the look again, the one suggesting that Lance was either extremely ill or off his rocker. He held his arms up for inspection. “I’m...as clean as I always am when I bathe in a stream. Why don’t you...sit...and I’ll make tea?”

“Tea sounds good.” Lance sunk down into the armchair and held his head. He’d been staring at potions way too long and his whole body was starting to feel sore. 

“You know, I discovered something today that I never would have expected,” Keith said conversationally as he filled their kettle and hung it on the iron grate over the fire. “Apparently, I can sleep in a roaring fire and be perfectly fine, but it seems like Northern Reds can get sunburned.” 

Lance’s head whipped up. Sure enough, now that Keith was out of the sun he could see the painful red burn across all the peaks of his skin from his ears to his shoulders to the knuckles of his hands. “Your scales,” he said dumbly. Apparently whatever had turned his brain to moss was still ailing him.

Keith shrugged. “Are a little tender, but not as bad as my skin. I’m not sure what it would be like if I went into primal form. But I suppose this is a valuable piece of information. Though it’s going to be tough with only a few tunics. Which, ah. Leads me to my next question.”

He circled around the table to sit at Lance’s feet, looking up at him through strings of still-wet bangs. “I know that’s the last order, and that you’ve been trying to downplay it.”

“I mean that your scales are probably what protects you from the sun. Without them you’ll get burned. Stay there.” He stood to fetch the salve he’d just completed, ignoring the way Keith’s eyes followed him. “It’s a good thing I finished this today. Don’t worry, it should help.”

“I’m not going to stay still if you’re not going to listen,” Keith argued back. “I’m fine and you’re ignoring the problem.”

“I told you, I’ll write them for more work. You don’t need to worry about it.” Lance used a cloth to pick up the whole pot and hefted it back to the chair.

True enough, Keith stood and retreated back to the front door. “No. That goes in the bottles and ships out tomorrow. You’re not putting it on me.”

Lance gripped the sides of the pot until his fingers turned numb. “It’s not a big deal. I can make more. Sit down.” 

“Yes it is!” Keith gestured to the shelves he’d built, which held a few sad glass bottles with middling stores. “You’re almost out of reactives, we don’t have a garden yet, we’re almost out of flour, and something has to be done. So I took a job - or rather, I will, with your permission.”

“You what?” It felt like Keith had punched him in the stomach. Lance sucked in a breath as he stared at the middle distance between them.

“There’s a widow at the edge of the forest, about a candlemark’s walk from here.” Keith sighed. “She’s got a young boy, and she’s blind. She just needs someone to chop wood and things like that. It’s not monster hunting and it’s easy and close. And  _ don’t  _ try to tell me we don’t need it. I’m not stupid.”

The pot was starting to burn through the cloth, singeing Lance’s fingertips. “Chop wood…” Lance shook his head. “No. You can’t do that.”

Closing the distance between them, Keith tried to take the pot away but Lance’s grip tightened. “And why not?” Keith demanded, the muscles under the red skin of his arms going tense. 

“You’re a Northern Red Dragon, High Magic Familiar of the Magerium. You can’t be  _ cutting wood.”  _ Lance pulled on the pot, fingernails digging into the cast iron. “I’ll do it.”

“Actually…” Keith’s grip loosened, his voice going softer. “I thought maybe you could try to help her son. We can both chop wood, but I can’t do what you can.”

“Her son?” He shook his head. “Keith, there are a lot of things magic can help with but it’s not a cure-all and I’m not a healer. What could her son possibly need a Lesser Potions Master for?”

“He doesn’t.” Keith raised his eyes and looked at Lance meaningfully. “But he could definitely use some advice from a water mage. He never got recruited as an acolyte. His mother told me he loses control of it all the time.”

“Oh,” Lance said more to the pot than Keith. “I’d have to think about that. We are still technically under the Magierum’s laws and what you’re asking of me is-”

“Illegal. I know.” Keith sighed, long and tinged with exhaustion. “And I understand if you don’t want to. But I thought...the least I could do was help out a little to make things easier on her. Of course, the decision is yours.” He paused. “Master.”

“I’m not saying yes,” Lance said, shifting which of his fingers were holding the pot at once. “But I’m not saying no. We’ll meet her first and then we’ll decide if the risk is worth the pay.”

Keith’s smile was soft, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Thank you. Now will you put this pot back?”

Shame and resignation swirled in the pit of his stomach. "No. At least let me use it for your burn." 

“Stop. I can smell that you’re upset.” 

"I'm not upset and if I am then it's because you won't let me take care of you." Lance tugged hard on the pot, trying to rip it from Keith's grip. 

That seemed to reach his familiar on some level, because Keith eased up, letting Lance take most of the weight once more. When he was certain Lance had his grip back, he let go and circled the small table, taking a seat on the crude wooden stool. “...Alright. If that’s what you want.”

Lance set the pot down but kept the cloth clutched between his fists. "I'm going to use this on your burn and then I'll make more for the Magerium. Understood?" 

Keith bowed his head. “Yes, Master.”

That dug right into Lance’s heart, but he ignored it along with the pain in his fingers. He squared his shoulders and sat down. Wringing the cloth to steel his nerves, Lance nodded to the floor in front of him. "Please." 

Obedient and silent, Keith slid to the floor and crossed his legs. 

With Keith facing away, Lance finally untangled his fingers to survey the damage. They were red and tender, one was starting to bubble under the skin. Not as bad as it'd felt. 

"I'm fine with you being mad at me. I can take it. But I refuse to let you stay hurt because we need the money." Lance bent to dip his fingers in the salve and almost sighed at the cooling touch. 

“I’m not mad,” Keith said quietly. “You can’t smell it, so-"

"That's still not fair," Lance muttered. 

"-I’ll tell you: I’m frustrated. I’m disappointed. I got us kicked out and now we’re living like hermits. I’m working hard as I can and it’s not enough. You deserve so much more than this and I can’t provide it. So, yeah, the last thing I want to do is let you use the last of our stores on me because your stupid  _ fire dragon _ got himself  _ sunburnt _ .” 

"I don't blame you for this. I thought you knew that." Tentatively, Lance spread the balm over Keith's burn, letting his own fingers soak it in as well. "You're already working too hard on things that aren't your responsibility. You were never meant to worry about anything more than helping me with magic." 

“ _ You’re  _ my responsibility,” Keith argued over his shoulder peevishly. “Why did I train so hard and learn all of these skills if you won’t let me use them to keep you safe and provided for? My own entertainment?” 

Everything was so  _ wrong _ . None of this was how his life was supposed to turn out. The life promised to him had never existed in the first place and now the scraps of it had been ripped from his fingers. He had no idea how to navigate this new life, but he did know that it shouldn’t ever be Keith’s responsibility. If Keith  _ had _ been some Low Magic creature, Lance wouldn’t have any help in the first place. “I don’t know,” Lance said finally, truthfully, as his head fell against Keith’s. He squeezed his eyes shut, burying himself in the damp hair.

Keith squirmed below him, struggling to turn despite the sudden death grip on his shoulders. He maneuvered himself into an awkward half-twist, but it was enough to see Lance and reach a hand up to try and coax his head up from its hiding place. “Hey. It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s already not okay,” Lance spat. “I need to work harder, convince the Elders that I can do more work despite being so far. Maybe-” Even now, even if they were starving, Lance wouldn’t want to say it. Lance swallowed his pride. It wasn’t just him stuck in this situation. “Maybe Shiro could put in a good word for me, help get more jobs allocated to us.”

“You would…” Keith frowned up at him, his gold eyes flashing with hurt. “You would really rather ask Shiro for help than let me chop wood once a week?”

“I…” That wasn’t what he meant, but when Keith said it like that it made him sound like a jerk. “That’s not-  _ Neither of us _ should be chopping wood, but that isn’t a permanent solution.”

“No,” Keith agreed quietly. “It’s not. But it’s a start. And if we’re going to make this work, we need to be willing to take what opportunities come up.” He lifted a pointed eyebrow. “And you call  _ me _ stubborn.”

Lance let out a wry laugh. “You are, but I never said I wasn’t. I had to be to get as far as I did.” Fully pulling himself out of hiding, Lance sat back in the chair and closed his eyes. “I hate this.”

Keith shrank back. “...I know. I’m sorry.” He yelped as Lance kicked his thigh with the side of his foot, more out of surprise than pain.

“Stop it.” Lance sighed and opened one eye to study his dragon before closing it again. “We’ll visit the blind woman tomorrow. You’ll cut wood while I decide if taking on an illegal apprentice is something I want to do. Will that satisfy you?”

Keith grumbled and sullenly scratched at his reddened arm, then hissed in pain. “Yes, Master.” 

Lance’s eyes flew open and scanned Keith, looking for what hurt him. Right, he still hadn’t treated the sunburn. “Here,” he said holding out his hand. “Let me finish.” 

Sighing, Keith looked at Lance’s extended palm. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the blistered tips of his Master’s fingers, and he opened his mouth to argue before glancing over at the salve. For the first time, his spine relaxed and he settled himself fully in front of Lance. “Yes, Master.”

Picking up Keith’s arm, Lance held it across a knee. Using some of the salve, he rubbed it into the red of his shoulders and worked his way down. It tapered off into pink by the bicep and grew back to flushed red on his forearm. “It’s going to peel and blister here,” Lance said as he rubbed the reddest spot. 

“This is so stupid.” Keith sucked in a breath. “Fucking fire dragon and I can’t even - fucking  _ ow _ !”

“Sorry,” Lance mummed. “I guess I could try, but, well there’s no harm in trying. It’s not like anyone is here.” Dipping down to that part of him that was far away and closed off, he tried to do  _ something _ . Try to add water back into Keith’s skin, maybe. Gently massaging circles into Keith’s arm, Lance mumbled to himself.

His mana was shallow with the internal stone wall that always stopped his progress, but there was enough to do something with. Lucky for him, salves didn’t require much mana.

Slushing water, cold but not quite solid, not quite ice, melted between his fingertips and Keith’s burning skin. With tendrils of mana, Lance coxed Keith’s skin to drink and renew. Healing magic was a sister to Water just as Ice was, but neither of them came as naturally as water.

Immediately, Keith slumped against him with a relieved groan. “Nnn, s’ _ cold _ .”

That snapped Lance from his half-trance. He blinked down at Keith's burn, now a bright pink instead of a deep red. "It worked," he said in amazement. "How does it feel?" 

“So much better,” Keith admitted. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

Lance shrugged. "It was mostly the salve. I just-" He rolled his hand in the air. "Helped, I guess." In all honesty he had no idea what he’d done. Whatever he did, it used more energy; if only he had more mana to draw from. He finished smoothing the cream into Keith’s shoulders and back, then he lifted the burnt knuckles to his lap and scraped more cream onto them. 

Long before, Keith had closed his eyes, and by the time Lance had worked his way down to his fingers, he was resting his head against his Master’s knees. “I have to say,” he murmured drowsily, “if this is the kind of treatment I can expect, I’ll go out and get sunburnt more often.” 

“We’ll be out of reactive before the day’s end.” The knuckles were not as burnt as his arms but they still looked painful despite being protected by scales. Lance tried to cool Keith’s knuckles like he had with his arms and almost bent in half from a wave of nausea. He caught himself on the armrest with a cough to hide what he’d done. Dropping Keith’s hands, he gave them a pat. “I think you’ll be fine. I should remake this order before supper.”

“Tea first.” Keith stood and stretched, twisting back and forth at the waist to test the pull of his skin. “And - thank you. For, well. All of it.”

Lance shook his head. There was nothing to thank him for. He leaned back in the chair and let his eyes close. To finish his order, he’d need at least some mana and he was nearing empty. If he pulled from Keith, Keith would know. It was better to let it rebuild on its own. So, tea it was. “Any of the King’s brew left?”

Keith chuckled. “More than you probably would like to know about. Oh, and that reminds me; I found a pretty active hive in an old tree. Next time I take the laundry to the stream, I’m going to try smoking it to get a few honeycombs. I know you prefer it a little sweeter.” Now that he had a task to focus on once again, Keith had perked up a bit. He reached into the fire and grabbed the bubbling kettle, bringing it to the almost-complete stove. 

“That sounds lovely.” Lance brought one leg up to drape across the armrest as he snuggled down into the chair. “Can they be tamed? It’d be nice to have a source of honey,” he said, voice dipping low into his chest as he fought the press of sleep. 

“Can the  _ bees  _ be...alright, nevermind, change of plan.” Keith put Lance’s mug back down and crossed over to where he was tucked into his chair. “The tea will be there later.” With no further warning, he scooped Lance up into his arms. 

“What about the honey?” Lance asked into the heat of Keith’s skin. 

The huff of amusement ghosted over his face, overwarm and smelling faintly like charcoal. “It will be there after you nap.” 

“Maybe just a little nap.” The shipment wasn’t going out until tomorrow morning, Lance still had time to finish. Keith being so close eased the nausea in his stomach and made it hard to argue. 

Keith was deliberate and slow as he climbed the twisting stairs that led to Lance’s bedroom loft, doing his best not to jostle his master even as he knelt to lay him on top of the mattress. A bedframe was on Keith’s to-do list, but the pile of soft furs and blankets on top made it more than cozy. As Keith pulled his arms back, he brushed the hair from Lance’s forehead. “Rest well, Master. I’ll wake you for supper.” 

“Wait.” Lance placed his hand on top of Keith’s. “Just a little longer.”

“...You want me to wake you after supper?”

Lance grumbled and turned his head into the soft fur. “No, silly dragon,” he said, tugging on Keith’s hand. “M’need you.”

Beside him, Keith sucked in a swift breath. In another few seconds, he settled in beside Lance and hesitantly rested an arm over him. “...Like this?” 

“Mm. Better,” Lance said, words trailing off into the furs under his face.

Keith was rigid and unmoving for the first few minutes, but soon he began to lightly stroke through Lance’s hair, petting it back and letting it fall forward again. As Lance’s breath began to even out, there was a faint nudging at the back of his mind. Without Lance’s consciousness to hold it back, the bond, empty and craving, sought him out on its own. Keith gave a soft, distressed gasp.

“Stupid, stubborn magi,” Keith whispered, right against his neck. “I should have known.”

The first few coils of mana snaked through their bond like hot syrup, warm and slow and sweet. Once a connection had been made, it poured into his reserves, filling the empty space there with molten gold. 

Almost immediately Lance relaxed in his arms. The crease in his brow smoothed and he fell into an even sleep. 

~🍄~

When Lance opened his eyes, twilight dimmed the loft and the only warmth was the chimney against the wall. Groggy but feeling energized, Lance shuffled down the stairs. His mana felt warm and extra full. It was a nice change from the depleted feeling that made up most of his days. It was the best nap he’d had since they moved here. 

His shirt fell from his shoulder as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Vaguely he realized that he was wearing one of Keith’s tunics but didn’t remember changing. Speaking of. “Keith?” he asked the empty house. 

There was no place to hide, so if Keith was there, Lance would see him. His stomach growled as the smell of cooking fish hit him. Wandering over to the oven, Lance peeked inside. Root vegetables and a river fish simmered inside. His stomach growled again. At least it wasn’t rabbit. He’d have to remember to thank Keith later.

Placing the cover back over the oven, he stretched and turned to his workbench. Nap or not, he still had to finish the order. The heat of the oven warmed his bare legs and he didn’t want to leave it. Maybe come winter they could move his bench closer to the kitchen. In between the fireplace and the oven sounded like a delightful place to be on a snowy day. 

Sighing, Lance finally crossed the room, then paused.

His workbench was cleaned and all of the herbs had been prepped, cut, and ground for him to use. The last of the previous salve had been bottled and carefully corked. He smiled as he leaned over the table, lifting one of the dried flowers and examining it. It was perfect. He might as well have prepped for this potion himself. 

The front door opened quietly as possible and Keith stepped inside, scraping his feet against the reed mat. This was followed by a very loud clattering. Lance jumped and turned, snapping the dried flower as he did. “Stars, Keith. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Keith mumbled to the floor as he bent to pick up the armful of wood he’d dropped. “Logs are...um...slippery. Uh. How was your nap?” He hastily started stacking the wood against the wall by the stove, face flushed and eyes firmly on his task. 

“Wonderful. I feel fantastic.” Placing his broken flower back with the others, Lance jogged over to Keith’s side. “Let me help,” he said, picking up one of the logs from the pile.

“I, uh, I’ve got it, Master, you just - um, rest. You were pretty exhausted earlier.” Keith’s voice was suspiciously high. He took the log from Lance and set it in the stack.

“I told you I’m fine now.” Lance placed a hand over Keith’s forehead. “Did you get sun sick? You shouldn’t have gone back out after getting burned.”

Keith glanced up at him, his yellow eyes darker than usual with widened pupils. “You, uh,” he said softly, licking his lips. “You have legs.” 

Lance glanced down at himself. “Oh, sorry. I should change into my own clothes.”

“No!” Keith said, urgent and sudden. “I mean - no, it’s fine. You can wear that. Most of your tunics are drying. I need to finish supper.” He stood and scurried over to the stove, opening the oven door and reaching in to pull the pan from the flames.

“It’s not that big of a deal. I can wear one of my dirty ones.” He finished placing the last few logs on the stack and clapped his hands together. “I’ll go change before I start on the potions.”

“After. This is almost done.”

Lance spun and the shirt flared out, brushing the tops of his thighs as it fluttered back in place. “That’s right. I wanted to thank you for not making rabbit again. You’ve been doing a wonderful job around here and, well-” He played with the hem of the tunic as the sleeve fell from his shoulder again. “I haven't told you that, so. Thank you.”

Keith straightened. He glanced over at Lance and stilled, simply taking him in. He was quiet for so long that Lance began to fidget under the scrutiny. 

Closing the distance between them, Keith looked into his eyes, unblinking and intense. 

“Um.” Lance blinked up at him, confusion writ across his face.

“I,” he said, and his voice was low and rough. “Would do anything to make sure you’re happy.” 

Lance broke into a grin. “Stars, I thought you were mad at me.” He tugged on a strand of Keith's hair, still down from his bath in the stream. “My dramatic dragon.”

The flush on Keith’s face darkened from rose to wine as his brow furrowed. “I’m not being dramatic. It’s the truth.” 

“You think that because you can’t see your face.” He tugged the strand again. “But, I understand. I’d do anything to make sure you’re happy, too.”

Having the tables turned, so to speak, seemed to make Keith squirmy. “We should.” He coughed to clear his dry throat. “There’s fish. I’ll...finish the. Just sit down.” 

“I really think you’re sun sick.” Lance abandoned his hair to press both hands on Keith’s cheeks. “You’re warmer than usual. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll serve the fish? You’ve already worked too hard today and I’ve had a nap.”

For once, Keith didn’t seem inclined to argue. “...Alright.” 

That earned him a smile. “Good.” 

Closing his eyes, Keith leaned into Lance’s touch. “Good.” 

Lance was growing hot from Keith’s proximity. “I’ll just-” A beat too late he stepped out of Keith’s circle and fisted his hands. Turning toward the oven, he cleared his throat. That nap must’ve left him still tired. “I might have something for sun sickness in my unpacked luggage. After I finish the potions I’ll try to find it for you”

Dinner was quiet, but not unpleasant. It was clear that despite Lance’s help and the definite improvement in his skin, that the sunburn coupled with the overall amount of work he’d done that day had left Keith drained and placid. They spoke now and then, but for the most part, were simply content to eat in companionable silence with the crackle of the fireplace the only sound in their corner of the forest. 

Keith cleaned up while Lance finished the order, and when he was done with the dishes, crawled into the armchair to rest while Lance worked. It took two candlemarks before the pot was bubbling and it’d be another candlemark before it was finished. 

Wiping his hands on his shirt before he remembered that it was Keith’s, Lance turned to his luggage still stacked in the corner. The necessities had been unpacked so all that was left were the few sentimental items and non-essential potions he’d packed just in case. 

“D’you need help?” Keith asked sluggishly. “Nevermind, you’ll just say no.” 

He hauled himself to his feet and plopped back down in front of the boxes that were left, his tail hanging in a lazy midair question mark. “What am I looking for?” 

“A sachet, about this big.” Lance made a fist. “It’s wrapped in sackcloth. And I wouldn’t have said no.” He mumbled the last part.

“What was that?” Keith asked archly, digging around in the first box. “Didn’t quite catch the last bit.”

"Are you feeling better?" Lance pulled down another box and sat next to Keith. 

“That’s not what you said. But yes, a little. Whatever you did really helped.” Keith dug around a bit more, but his box was mostly just jars packed in straw. He pushed it aside to start on another one. “Except for the part where it drained your mana pool completely and you tried to hide it from me.”

Lance froze. “I didn’t try to hide it from you.”

Keith sighed and fixed him with a look that was part disappointment, part exhaustion. “We’ve argued enough for one day. And you did it for me. I’d probably do the same if I could. I just.” He gave another long sigh. “Hate to see you so depleted.”

“This is yours, isn’t it?” Lance clutched the fabric of the shirt over his heart, the long sleeves hiding his hands from view. “That’s why I’m feeling so much better, you refilled my mana.”

“Of course I did. That’s half of why you have me.” 

Lance shifted, still clutching the fabric. Mana sharing was definitely a perk of having a bonded familiar, but Keith had been hurt. “You shouldn’t have done that when you’re healing. Ugh.” He sat back on his butt and glared at Keith. “Then you left to do  _ more _ work. Keith, you’re going to run yourself ragged. You have to be careful out here. We don't have the Castle facilities if you wear yourself out.” 

Keith was silent. 

“Are you listening? You can’t keep working so hard.”

Voice strained, back rigid, he turned to Lance with an unreadable expression. “Where…” The word cracked at the end and he sucked in a breath. Then another. Then he held his hand out to Lance. “Where did you get  _ this _ ?” 

Lance blinked down at the glass toad, chipped and dulled with fingerprints. A thick crack ran through its head down to the missing foot. “Not the toad thing again.” He sighed. “I told you-”

“ _ Where did you get this _ ?” Keith crawled forward, pressing the glass figure to Lance’s face as he did. 

“I don’t know,” Lance said more out of trying to answer than actually not knowing. “The gardener gave it to me when I was a kid.”

“No he didn’t,” Keith said it breathlessly, his focus going inward as he frowned and grappled with something Lance couldn’t see. 

“Yes he did,” Lance insisted. Keith was acting really strange; he’d never seen him get this upset before. “It was a long time ago, but I remember. I was sad and he told me I could keep it.”

“There was a...a boy.” The frown deepened and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck, why can’t I...there was a  _ boy _ in the. The garden? No, by the pond.”

“What boy?” Lance asked, tilting his head to stare at Keith. He’d turned pale under his sunburn and looked like he’d seen a ghost. 

Keith’s eyes snapped open and he stared at Lance, slack-jawed and wondering. “It was you. You were the boy at the pond. It was  _ you _ .”

“Keith, you’re going to have to explain. What boy are you talking about and what does it have to do with Hurbert?”

“Where did you go?” Keith demanded. “Whenever you were upset as a child?” 

“The- The garden mostly. Sometimes the forest. Anywhere to get away from James and his friends.” Lance leaned back. “You’re scaring me.”

“And the pond. You went to the pond and you were crying. And then dozens of frogs and toads crawled out of the pond to keep you company. It was you, I know it was.” 

Lance squinted at him. “How do you know about that?”

Keith’s fierce expression broke and shattered into a laugh, so breathless it was near silent. “Because it was me. I made them come out. I boiled the lake so they’d all come out and make you smile.” He laughed again. “It really was  _ you  _ all along.”

“You did that?” Lance stared at him, open mouthed. “You gave me Hurbert the first?”

“You were crying so hard. I went to the pond too when I was upset, so I just thought - well I don’t know what I thought. But I knew I had to try something.” Keith shook his head with a laugh. “I can’t believe it worked.” 

“I can’t believe it was you. I’d thought I was a frog summoner.” Lance broke away from Keith’s stare to look down at Hurbert the second. “And this.” He looked back up. “You?”

“One of the very first things I ever made. I wanted to talk to you  _ so badly  _ but I couldn’t be seen. Adam told me to leave you a gift so that you had a friend since I couldn’t be. And it was the only thing I could think of.” 

Lance smiled down at Hurbert. “I took one of the toads home, the pond toads you made jump at me, but- I shouldn’t have.” He shook his head to clear the memory. “When I found this one and the gardener let me keep it, well. I thought it was Hurbert telling me he forgave me for what happened.” 

Keith frowned. “I’m not sure if I should ask.” 

“You don’t want to know. Children aren’t nice.” Lance wiggled the glass frog. “Hurbert the second had a much better life. You made him quite hardy, only lost one leg.”

“I got much better.” Keith indicated the general lumpy frogness of Hurbert. “But in my defense, I was in a hurry.” 

“Well then.” Lance shifted. He was practically under Keith. “Thank you, frog boy.”

The slow unfurling of Keith’s smile was tender in a way it had never been before. He reached up and tucked Lance’s hair behind his ear, never looking away. “You’re welcome, little water mage.”

Lance swallowed. “You know, Hurbert could use a makeover and a new leg.”

Keith thought that over for a moment, taking in Hurbert’s beat up condition. “I’ll make him a new leg, but I could also just make him a friend.” 

_ A friend.  _ Lance’s grip tightened around the only friend he’d had for years. “He’s been alone a long time. I’m not sure he’s good at making friends.” 

“Maybe all the people he was around before were the wrong kinds of people. He did get a broken leg after all.”

“He doesn’t trust that others won’t hurt him eventually. Can’t you see all his scratches?”

Keith’s hand lingered by Lance’s cheek and he brushed a thumb across the freckles of his cheekbone. “He’ll come around. All he needs is a little bit of time and someone who knows their way around glass.”

“What if it’s too late? What if he’s broken forever?”

“Well, that’s the thing about glass - it’s never really broken. It just changes shape, and becomes something new.” 

Lance leaned into Keith’s palm and clutched Hurbert to his chest. “Maybe a new friend would be good for him after all.”

Keith’s gaze only became softer as they talked, a deep warmth infusing the depthless gold. “I can’t believe it was you all along.” His breath against Lance’s cheek was dry and smelled like spiced wine and burning leaves.

“I’m sorry,” Lance said, breathing the scent of Keith as he tried to remember the past. He came up blank. “I’m sorry that I forgot you. That I thought you were the gardener.” 

His dragon shook his head, sending his hair rippling. “I didn’t remember at all and you didn’t even know I existed.” 

Desperation clutched at Lance’s heart. He wasn’t sure if it was the look in Keith’s eyes or if there was some tell through their bond, but every ounce of him had to let Keith know right there. “I do now. Everyone does. You exist. I... know that now, I hope it’s not too late.”

The hand cradling his cheek changed its grip, fitting them together more completely. “Too late for what, Master?”

“Too late for me to notice you.”

Keith smirked. “And do you notice me now?”

“Even if I didn’t before.” Lance nodded. “Thank you for being there for me when I didn’t, though.” 

Shrugging, Keith gave him a helpless little smile. “Seems like I was always meant to be there. The Old Magic never makes mistakes.” 

Lance shoved him playfully. “You never get tired of saying that.”

Keith laughed as he caught himself. “Well, you never get tired of hearing it.” 

“Shut up.” Lance’s face grew hot and he turned to the boxes. “I’m not sure I want your help anymore. What if you find more of my childhood secrets?” 

“Well, for what it’s worth, I feel fine. You’re the one insisting on slathering me with whatever this is.” 

Lance glared at him. Keith was so stubborn about his own health it was ridiculous. “You sleep with it. It’ll pull the poison from your skin.” He shuffled through his box and came up short. “I know I brought it.”

As he began digging again, the sachet landed by his foot. 

He glared down at it like it personally offended him. “How?” Lance asked the sachet. 

Keith just smirked. “I’ve had it for a while. I was going to just watch you dig, but then we got sidetracked.” 

“Wow. And here I was thinking that you were halfway to likable.” Lance threw the sachet and Keith caught it easily. “You’re an unbearable chimney.”

“I’m a what now?” 

“An unbearable chimney, an insufferable smokestack, uh- uh- an annoying...oven?” Lance wrinkled his nose when he ran out of insults. 

Keith held up his hands and laughed. “Alright, alright, save some for tomorrow.”

Lance pouted. “I have no idea why I like you.” He stood and stretched, back popping as he yawned. Keith’s shirt ran up his leg, tickling his upper thigh. 

“Ah…” Keith quickly turned away and rubbed his neck. “I think I might, ah, call it an early night. Must be more tired than I realized.” 

“Remember to sleep with the sachet.” Lance’s arms swung down by his side and knelt to pick up Hurbert. He handed the glass frog to Keith with reverent hands. “Take care of him for me, too.”

“Sure.” He stood and gave Lance a hasty smile. “Better sleep in my workshop tonight if you want me holding this. Don’t want it to burn in the fireplace. Need anything else?” 

“Oh,” Lance said, slumping a little as he looked in the direction of the workshop. It was a tiny thing set off to the side of the house and not proper for sleeping. It was almost not good enough to be a workshop. “I guess for tonight you could sleep in the loft.”

“Any Familiar worth their salt would die before taking their Master’s bed.” Keith waved him off. “I’ll be fine and you can shout if you need me.” 

That wasn’t what he’d meant at all and now that he’d realized what he  _ did _ mean, he wasn’t sure Keith would agree to that idea any more than the previous. Still. “You could stay. Like the first night,” he said to the ground. 

Keith paused and looked at him strangely, somewhere between surprise and pain. He quickly schooled his expression and took a sniff of the air. 

“You want me to.” He wasn’t asking. 

“Of course I do. No one should have to sleep in the workshop and it’s important that you sleep with the sachet. Why would I want anything else?”

They looked at each other for several heartbeats. The fire was dying by that point, but it still made the shadows dance along the rug and across their skin. Keith’s eyes in particular were a peculiar riot of light and shadow as he searched Lance’s face for...something, Lance wasn’t sure. Under the scrutiny, he did his best to feel as sure of himself as possible, like he was pushing his feelings into the air around him.

Eventually, Keith took a step closer. “You have no idea, do you?” he asked - quiet, fervent, and resigned. 

Lance crossed his arms and his eyes flicked to Hurbert. He opened his mouth to argue back, unsure exactly what ideas he didn’t have.

“..Nevermind. Let’s get some sleep, okay?” 

Snapping his mouth shut, Lance nodded. “Are you still going to the workshop?”

Keith shook his head. “Just like the first night, as you said.” 

A log popped in the fireplace and Lance jumped, heart racing. His pulse pounded in his ears. He was so skittish and couldn’t figure out why. At least Keith wasn’t going to sleep in a literal shack. Lance forced a smile, doing his best to feel carefree. “Good. Then. I’ll just, go up.”

Glancing out the window, Keith gave a distracted nod. “I’ll be up shortly. There’s just something I need to take care of first.” 

Relief flooded through Lance. Keith wasn’t going to sleep outside  _ and _ he could probably be asleep before Keith got back. Then he wouldn’t have to face him in this strange mood. “Be quick. There're mist monsters out,” he said, teasing lightening his voice.

Keith shot him a wry look. “I’ll be diligent.” Then he was hustling for the door and into the garden within seconds. 

Lance watched him disappear through the window and sighed. “Still not sure about that Old Magic,” he said to the fireplace. 

Climbing the stairs, he found the bed just as he’d left it that afternoon. He made to lift Keith’s shirt to change and paused. Flashes of Keith working in the garden, sweat pouring down his skin assaulted him. The shirt still smelled like Keith, smoke and spice. He probably wouldn’t even think twice about Lance still wearing his shirt. 

“It’s fine,” he told himself and crawled under the furs. Sticking one foot out to cool himself, he snuggled into his pillow. Sleep was creeping around the edges of his consciousness when he heard the tell-tale sound of feet on stone.

Keith slid in behind him, a little cool from the misty night air and his breath strangely shuddery. He carefully adjusted himself, doing his best not to wake Lance as he did. When he was settled, his breathing ruffled the hair near Lance’s ear. 

“Master?” he whispered, almost too quiet to hear. “Asleep yet?”

Lance didn’t have the energy to answer and even if he did he wasn’t sure what to say. Whatever it was could wait until morning. 

There was a soft sigh along the shell of his ear before the heavy velvet weight of Keith’s wing draped across him and tugged him back by just a bit. 

“Sleep well, little water mage. Glad I finally found you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sail: This has got to be one of my favorite chapters, i'm a slut for romantic tension and Lance's legs. Also! welcome to summer! wow time really flies when it's a fantasy and i control time. we're here, we made it past the rival stage and now we're into shaky friends with feelings they don't understand. UGH my FAVORITE *throws confetti on you* i hope you enjoy the rest of their friendship building as they slowly start to realize their feelings
> 
> before you ask, yes, keith went to the shame shack because lance is hot and he needed some dragon alone time
> 
> Autumn: Notes: Here's another long one for you. Adam and Shiro go back to doing their real jobs, while Lance and Keith learn how to be magic gay homesteaders. Little House in the Deepmist. As always, thank you so, SO much for the comments and engagement. It really keeps us going. There have been so many times in the past few weeks where I just didn't feel like editing, and thinking about the fact that we have people genuinely interested in reading more got me back on board. So again, a shameless thank you and a humble request to please keep it up :heart:
> 
> It slices, it dices, it makes time in between chapters easier to bare!! What bear? All it costs is a simple click of a follow button and 3 easy payments of 0.00!!! Sham*WOW* amiright?: [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: throwing up and some moderate descriptions of violence (also see updated tags)
> 
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> I wish you guys could see the original draft of this chapter, just to see where these two originally were (emotionally) by this point in the story compared to now. I'm so much happier with this version. Enjoy this 18k monster.

~🍄~

Summer

As promised, Lance made good on his word and was up early the next day. Keith was already downstairs cooking breakfast, which smelled like mushrooms and wild roots for the nth time. Yum. Maybe Keith was right; If they went through with this, they might have comforts again, like butter and wheat. He should do this right.

For days now, he’d only been wearing shirts or his work trousers, never both at the same time. It was too hot for one and pointless for two. Keith was the only other person to ever see him so there was no reason to care how he looked. But now he was washed, dried, and brushed. The ends of his hair curled against the stiff collar of his tunic. He tugged on them. Soon his hair would start to look like Keith’s if he wasn’t careful. 

He ran his hands down the thick fabric of his Magerium tunic and flattened down his tasseled belt. Clearing his throat, he waited for Keith to look up from the stove. “How do I look?”

Keith glanced up from his frying pan and smiled. “Like the mage who summoned a dragon instead of a toad and then attacked his dragon with spider legs.” 

"You attacked yourself with spider's legs." There was already a steaming cup of tea on the table. Lance sat and pulled it under his nose, letting the smell wake him up. "I still don't promise anything." 

“I understand. The worst thing that happens today is that we come home with flour and eggs and I can make something a little more interesting for you. Don’t think I haven’t seen the face you make whenever I put another plate of roots in front of you.” Keith punctuated this by putting another plate of roots in front of him. 

“I don’t make a face,” Lance said, pouting.

“And there’s the face.” Keith sat down across from him. “Cheer up, Master. Between the honey and the supplies the widow promised, we’ll have enough to make you something sweet.” He hummed as he sipped his own tea. “Maybe it’ll improve your dour mood.”

Lance scoffed before taking a sip of tea. “My mood is just fine, considering.” With a long-suffering sigh, he placed his mug down to start in on his plate of roots and fungus. “You never did tell me how you found this family. What do you do when you go on your hunts, chat with all our neighbors?’

“Actually,” Keith shrugged, “I caught her son in a hunting trap.”

The image of some poor boy caught in a snare and hanging from a tree, just to be found by the dragon who’d rigged it in the first place, made Lance choke. A chunk of mushroom went flying across the table as Lance coughed. He grabbed for his tea and chugged it down. Water leaking from his eyes and still coughing, Lance pounded his chest. “You what?” he squeaked out.

“You do that a lot, you know - choke on your food.” Keith watched the mushroom bounce and land on the floor. “And it certainly wasn’t on purpose. He tripped it, I freed him, he asked why I had horns and I took him home.”

“No, I don’t.” Lance stuck out his tongue, addressing the most important part first. He did not choke and he chewed just fine, thank you. “So you told them you were a dragon and they asked you to chop wood?” Lance wasn’t sure if there were such laid back people back in Highmount. 

“No, I told him not to ask again, put on my glamour, and then his mother wanted to make me tea but they were out of chopped wood. So I offered and she insisted on paying me. I did enough to get them through a few days, and she explained that they have a hard time keeping the woodpile dry because her son keeps making it rain.”

“Ah.” Lance nodded. “I made it flood, almost wiped out our house. A few wet pieces of wood isn’t the worst.” He pushed his plate away. “We better get going before he waters some flowers.”

“I don’t think you’re taking this very seriously,” Keith observed, but he cleared the dishes nonetheless.

There was nothing to take seriously. Some backwoods kid who’d been rejected from the Magerium and made logs a little too soggy? They’d be over and done by early afternoon.

~🍄~

Lance had been wrong. He’d been so very wrong. 

Lighting cracked above them with a boom that shook his bones. Keith held a wing over Lance’s head to block the torrent but could do little for himself. To Lance’s credit, Keith hadn’t mentioned one little fact: the kid wasn’t a pure water mage, he was a storm mage. No wonder he’d been rejected. Storm Magic was almost impossible to control and had very little use to the Magerium. It was obvious this kid needed help before he even stepped foot in their house, but altogether, Lance wasn’t sure what he could do. It was hard enough to manipulate water, but to do it with water that rebelled was a thousand times worse. 

“No wonder they have soggy logs,” Lance yelled over the rain.

Keith clicked his tongue in agreement. “This is a bit worse than last time. Wonder what’s wrong.”

He led them over to the front door and knocked, shaking out his wing in disgust as soon as they were under the little thatched overhang. “I  _ hate  _ getting wet. Have I mentioned that? Why am I always surrounded by water Magi. None of  _ you  _ have wings.” 

“Isn’t Shiro a Light mage? You’re literally only complaining about me.”

The door opened and a woman with mousy brown hair in a messy plait smiled at them. Her eyes rocked back and forth, following the lightning that flashed behind them. “Hello, Keith,” she said pleasantly, as if the skies around her weren’t shaking apart. “Thank you for coming. Who do you have with you? Don’t tell me it’s the Master Magi!”

“You can just call me Lance.”

“Lance, it’s lovely to have you here. I’m Abigail. Please come in.” She held the door open for them as rainwater inundated the entryway. 

“Stars illuminate,” Lance said for lack of anything else to say as he stepped in. 

She blinked at him. “Illuminate what?”

“Uh, paths, your paths.” Maybe she wasn’t in the tradition of the Goddesses. “Bright suns?” he tried.

Her pleasant smile stayed, but it was clear she had no idea what he was getting at. “Would you like some cider? I stuck the jug outside while it was hailing to chill it.”

“Hailing,” Lance repeated her, staring wide-eyed at Keith. He tried his best to ask, ‘what did you get us into?’ with his expression alone. Keith gave a little shrug. 

“Oh, nothing unusual.” Abigail busied herself with pulling down two earthenware mugs, her fingers nimbly finding small markings on the shelves and following them up to the needed items. She filled them from a jug near the door that did indeed look a little frosty. “It just means Caleb is dreaming. He’s yet to wake up this morning.”

“I see. He does this every time he dreams?” Lance asked, looking out the small window. At least they had shutters. The rain pounded against them and Lance realised he missed the sound. He hoped they could have shutters soon.

“No, not always - it must not be a very nice dream. But he’s so been looking forward to meeting you. You two enjoy your cider and I’ll wake him.” She smiled again and stroked her hand along the edge of the table before heading for the only room in the cottage that was separated by a door. 

When she closed it behind her, Keith violently shook his wings again, as if he’d been dying to do so, splattering Lance as collateral damage. “I think, if she can get him to stop raining, I can probably dry the logs myself. Can you do this sort of thing too?” 

“What sort of thing?”

Keith gestured out the window. “Drum up storms in your sleep? Make it hail? Some of it might come in handy.” 

“Storms never come in handy and no. The closest magic to Water is Healing and Ice. Storm is related to Lighting, a weaker form of it. Still, no one can do magic outside of their gift unless they’re Star Cursed.” Lance didn’t like where this conversation was heading. “I thought you’d know that.”

He shrugged. “Shiro hates when anyone uses the word ‘Star Cursed.’ He always said that magic was more fluid and mysterious than we probably realize.”

The longer Keith went on about it the more he could feel his hackles rise. Lance’s voice turned harsh as he hissed, “I can’t do anything except Water. You’ve seen that.” He could taste the desperation on his tongue for Keith to agree.

Keith glanced over, his expression fluid as he regarded Lance for a long, quiet moment. Then he knocked his foot against Lance’s boot and smiled. “You can do a lot more than that. And that I  _ have  _ seen.” 

“ _ Potions _ are different,” Lance said carefully, making sure that was what Keith was alluding to. “Potions can use all the magics. It’s not the same as being Star Cursed.”

His dragon shook his head fondly and reached over to muss Lance’s carefully brushed hair. “You’re terrible at taking compliments.” 

“It  _ is _ different,” Lance insisted, but he’d lost track of who he was trying to convince. Pushing Keith’s hand away, he crossed his arms and slumped down. 

“Don’t do that, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was only curious how -” Keith cut himself off when the room grew distinctly lighter. He glanced over to the window, where the clouds had rolled off and sun was streaming through the shutters. “Oh. Guess he’s awake.”

_ “Finally.”  _

Abigail returned then, her hands on the shoulders of a shy looking boy of about 13. He was awkward and a little lanky, but certainly nowhere near as threatening as his storm magic would indicate. “There now. Master Magi, this is Caleb. Caleb, say hello.” 

Caleb looked up at Lance, waved, and very quickly looked back down. 

Immediately, Lance's demeanor shifted. He sat forward and smiled, open and kind. “Hello Caleb, I’ve been told you’d like to learn how to control your magic.”

Caleb nodded mutely. Keith looked at Lance and said, more to the room at large, “Let me go see about that wood.”

As soon as Keith left, Lance pulled a pebble from his pocket. A smooth thing he’d found along the path to their house. It was nothing like the giant stone tablet he’d had to manipulate as a child, but it would do. His memories of his own trial were blurry, but at least he remembered this. 

“Here,” Lance said, tossing the pebble to the kid. He caught it with both hands and stared at it. “It’s a miniature version of the trial you would’ve gone through at the Magerium, so I need you to do your best. It’ll help me understand how strong you are and what kind of magic Hoile blessed you with.” Remembering the rainstorm, he paused. “Maybe we should do this outside, actually.”

Caleb reached up to touch his mother’s sleeve and she patted his shoulder. “Go on, love.”

Reluctantly, Caleb moved to stand next to Lance. 

Lance led him outside. Keith was standing over the log stack blowing on them gently as steam rose from the wood. He found a spot a good ways away from the house, but still within ear and eyeshot. 

“Still have your stone?” At Caleb’s nod, Lance tried his best to look like his teachers had: back straight, nose in the air, and his hands behind his back. “I want you to try and push your mana into the rock. As much as you can. Do you know how to access your mana pool?”

Caleb shook his head. 

“Okay, close your eyes.”

He closed his eyes. 

“I want you to imagine that there’s a lake inside you. Imagine that it’s connected to your heart, your hands, and the soles of your feet through streams. You are the lake and the lake is you. It’s foaming over with - for you, it’ll probably be gray or white - water. That’s your mana. Can you see it?”

Caleb nodded, his face pinching. 

“What color is it?” Lance asked, more out of curiosity than his need to know. 

Instead of answering, Caleb’s breath stuttered and a tear slipped down his cheek. The clouds overhead began to darken. 

“Woah, hey.” Lance knelt down, his pretense of being a Magerium professor melting off him. “Open your eyes. Caleb, come back.”

Caleb blinked his eyes open but the tears still slipped out. “Are you here to take me away?” he asked, quiet and terrified. 

“Take you away?” Where would he take some untrained kid? If Caleb was hoping to become a Magerium mage, then he was going to be sorely disappointed. “No, I’m sorry, you’re going to have to stay here.”

As soon as they’d gathered, the clouds began to break. Caleb tried valiantly to hold back tears, but he was clearly well beyond relieved. “Unclaimed Magi get-” he hiccuped, “get sent away and nobody hears about them ever - ever again. Somebody’s gonna come for me someday. Who’s gonna watch out for Mama?”

“No one steals little children just because they have some magic.” At Caleb’s disbelieving stare, Lance changed tactics. “Once you can control it, no one will even know. If you work hard, you’ll be able to hide it.” Something about his own words left a bad taste in his mouth and a sinking feeling in his gut.

Caleb looked at him, holding his breath. He must have decided Lance was trustworthy, because he blew it out and shook out his arms, closing his eyes again. “Okay. Ready.”

“Okay, close your eyes.”

Working with Caleb was like looking in a mirror. He heard himself parroting all the same phrases, spouting the same wisdom, and it fell on the ears of a child who wanted nothing more than to do well, to appease him, to follow the rules he set down. The difference was that Caleb took to it quickly, naturally, and by the time the sun was starting to dip into afternoon, Lance felt confident that Caleb would at least be able to refrain from causing impromptu storms when he didn’t intend to. It wasn’t everything - in fact, it wasn’t much - but it was a start. More than Lance on his first day for sure. When they’d finished up for the day, Lance caught Caleb staring at him from the side. 

“Did you have more questions?” Lance asked, stretching out his wrists and massaging his fingers. Water magic was always heavy on finger work.

“We kinda look alike,” Caleb noticed. “Makes me think I can end up a good mage, like you.”

Of all the things he could have said, Lance wasn’t expecting that.  _ Good mage _ , he thought ruefully. The look on Caleb’s face paused his thoughts. Maybe here, in this moment, he was a good mage. “You’ll be a good mage all on your own.” He patted Caleb on the back.

They both turned to watch Keith drop the last armful of logs onto a heaping pile that he’d set up next to the house, under the same roof as the sheep’s pen just in case of rain. He straightened and stretched, shaking himself out like a dog. 

“Hey. Keith  _ is  _ a dragon, isn't he?” 

“Uh.” The truth was probably his best bet. “He’s my familiar. I summoned him when I graduated. So, no, he isn’t human, he’s High Magic.”

Caleb fixed him with a look. “So he’s a dragon.” 

Apparently Lance was weak to children. Running a hand through his hair, he broke. “Yeah, he’s a dragon.”

“So cool.” Caleb turned back to watching him work. “Now I seriously want to be just like you.”

Lance watched too. He watched Keith’s muscles ripple under his tunic and the lines of sweat that dripped down under his collar. The band of metal was neatly wrapped in the velvet ribbon that was now soaked through. 

It wasn’t fair. Keith was sure and confident and the complete opposite of Lance. He always knew who he was and what he wanted to do even if he didn’t know who he’d do it with, and it showed in every movement and every word. “Yeah, pretty cool.” 

Caleb looked up at Lance, raising his eyebrows. “He talked about you a lot, you know. When he was here.”

“Oh, did he?” Lance asked, not really paying attention. He’d need to wash that ribbon when they got home.

“Yeah. Honestly that’s kind of all he talked about. How your work is really cool, and really important, and you create things with all these neat ingredients. That you study a lot and sometimes don’t sleep and are an awesome water mage.” Caleb’s nose wrinkled. “Then some stuff about your eyes, I dunno.”

That caught Lance’s attention. “My eyes? What about my eyes?” 

Before Caleb could answer, Keith caught them looking and waved. He ambled over, rolling his neck to get out the kinks. “Alright, Caleb. I think I’ve saved you from chopping wood for at least two weeks.”

Caleb smiled. “Awesome.”

“Hey, Keith, you look a little sweaty, I think you could use some shade,” Lance said to Caleb.

“Oh! On it.” Caleb stood and took a deep breath. He lifted his arms level with his chest and splayed his palms, then closed them into fists. Immediately, the sky grew dark with clouds. 

“Whoa.” Keith looked up at it, squinting. “That’s amazing, Caleb. Good job.” He turned a wide, deeply proud smile at Lance. “Good job, professor.”

All of a sudden Lance felt tricked. Tricked by a combination of big brown eyes and dragon grins. He’d told himself he was going to be careful, that this was illegal and he’d not decide today, but before he knew it, he’d already started teaching. Lance looked down at Caleb and then up at the sky. Maybe he was a fool for getting sucked into this, but it also felt nice. For once, he could see how his magic directly affected someone and it was gratifying in a way that shipping off finished potions wasn’t. “Yeah, thanks. You did good too.”

Caleb beamed at him. “I’m gonna learn to control it all. Then, if you make me mad or don’t chop enough wood, I can make it rain on you or chase you with lightning.”

Keith snorted while Lance chuckled. “Ah, youth.” 

At the end of the day, Abigail insisted they stay for supper and then sent them home with a crate of supplies: eggs, fresh butter and cream, milk, flour, and a few summer vegetables from her garden. They’d both insisted it was too much, but she shook her head.

“I can’t see him,” she said quietly, “but I can hear how happy he is. And I haven’t heard that for a very, very long time. I only wish I could do more.”

Walking back to their cottage, Keith leaned over and gave Lance a knowing smirk. “Soo…”

“Oh, very well.” Lance huffed over his armful of tomatoes. “You can chop wood. And I’ll  _ think  _ about going back again.”

And if there was a sudden rain cloud that drowned out Keith’s insufferable grin, well. The weather was just so strange in this part of the Deepmist. 

~🍄~

Much as it pained him, Lance eventually had to compromise on the hardest thing of all. The potions work was kept at a steady trickle, but even supplementing their supplies with Abigail’s help, they needed to do more. So, reluctantly, Lance agreed to take on a contract or two. And he insisted they do so together. 

The first one they took was a local monster. That was all it said - Whitshaw Monster, inquire with Brand. 50 silver payable upon delivery of head. 

The village of Whitshaw was, according to Keith, pretty lucky to have been given the title “village.” With a population of a whopping 223, it was certainly larger than most of the surrounding hamlets, but by Keith’s standards, was essentially a circle of shacks surrounding a very large pond. 

The lake - since it was, in fact, (Lance corrected him) a lake and not a pond - was both their destination and the source of their current problems. When Lance had taken the contract, not a single soul had seen fit to specify that the monster they were supposed to locate was very much aquatic and very much not going to surface any time soon. Thus, Lance now had to figure out how to either get it to come up or a way for them to go down. He had debated using his mana to more or less ‘feel around’ the depths, but that would be a blind endeavor and would drain him very quickly. His dragon had made it quite clear that dragons, especially Northern Reds, were not in any way amphibious. That left Keith with the job of lounging by the lake, bothering frogs out of boredom as he “watched the supplies” - in other words, watched Lance peer at the brackish water as if it would simply part if he were to glare at it long enough. 

Keith could usually be counted upon to stay still for approximately half a candlemark. That time limit was apparently nearing, because he had taken to throwing small pebbles at Lance’s head while he thought. 

“Think harder,” Keith nagged. Another rock. Another. “You’re a water mage. This is what you do. You do water.” 

“I would do it better if you weren't _throwing rocks at my head!_ ” Lance picked up one of the smooth rocks around him and threw it squarely at Keith’s forehead. “And I don’t see you coming up with any good ideas!”

Keith blinked boredly back at him, unbothered by the little pebble that nicked his horn and ricocheted off to plop into the water. It startled a nearby frog, who jumped from his lilypad into the muck. 

“I had a good idea. I said to dump the lake on the village. We find the monster, they get a break from the sun. Everyone goes home happy.”

“Except the villagers whose homes we’ve now destroyed,” Lance huffed. “I doubt they’d be very pleased and displeased villagers don’t line the pockets.” 

Keith rolled to his side and stretched. “What are they going to do? Shake turnips at us? Throw hay?”

“You’re being awfully cavalier with the livelihoods of our latest source of income. What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m bored,” Keith whined. “It’s one thing when we’re actually hunting or fighting or even chopping wood, but this sitting around is killing me.”

Lance kicked the stony lake shore, spraying sand and rocks into the water. Ordinarily, his grumpy dragon’s dramatics made him secretly smile, but at present, they only served to fray his already tenuous nerves. “Why don’t you go get us some food? I need space to think.”

Evidently that was as good a chance as any for Keith to entertain himself, because he stood without further question. 

Keith’s glamour was getting better, and they usually agreed that it was for the best if he made the effort to appear wholly human and as unassuming as possible. In this mirage of a form, his eyes were grey, the horns, claws, wings, and tail were all gone, and he was on the shorter side. With his hands in his pockets, he was as casual as he could hope to make himself. “Any requests?”

“Take your time.”

His dragon made a face. “Not what I meant, but duly noted. Have fun with your pond.”

“Lake.”

“Whatever.”

Keith set off down the lane at a pace that would shame a rabbit but inspire a turtle, an ambling sort of walk he rarely had time for anymore. He hadn’t done much walking for pleasure since he was younger, and once he’d been introduced to Anny and Ori, he no longer had daily walks with Adam. To be honest, he missed it from time to time. He made a mental note to ask Lance if he’d like to start walking in the mornings when the mist still kept the forest cool. It would be a nice way to start the day. 

Despite his complaints, the village was actually pretty endearing. Having spent his entire life in Highmount, he was unaccustomed to the flat streets and the rounded, squat little houses with cheerful front gardens and smoking chimneys. Even if he was bored out of his mind, it was nice to see other parts of Belwald, to remember that the world was much bigger than a stuffy old castle and its surrounding grounds. 

The main square was bustling with about twelve individuals. Keith scanned the wooden signs swaying lazily outside of the storefronts until he found one shaped like bread. 

Shouldering his way into the bakery (or what he banked on being a bakery, on account of the bread), something hard slammed into him and sent Keith stumbling back. It unsettled his glamour for a moment, enough for the boy who’d collided with him to scream and drop what he’d been holding. It landed in Keith’s hands with a hefty thunk. 

“Stop!” The baker, an older gentleman who had no business trying to run, came shambling towards the door. “He’s a thief, stop hi-oh.” 

He came up short once he saw Keith propping the door open with his body, bemusedly watching the boy run away while holding the bag the boy had dropped.

“You stopped him!” The baker smiled at Keith.

Keith blinked. “I did? Oh, the bag - here.” 

Accepting it with a pleased huff, the baker patted it and gestured for Keith to come inside. “No telling what the world’s coming to when folk break into your business just to steal your salt.”

The weight of the bag made sense, but certainly not the contents. Keith raised an eyebrow. “Salt? Why was he stealing salt?”

The baker shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time, neither. Bags went missing from John the Butcher’s down the lane last week.”

The important part of the conversation was the ‘salt was stolen and now stolen again’ but Keith was still stuck on how every small village seemed to have a ‘John the Butcher down the lane.’ “Any idea why?”

“Haven’t the faintest. S’pose it’s valuable enough, but can’t imagine it has much draw outside a market. Come in, lad - what can I get you?”

In the end, the baker gave Keith two hand pies, hot and dripping grease, and a loaf of brown bread for his “services.” Out of hunger and borderline poverty, Keith didn’t protest, but did thank him as politely as Lance would expect. 

Speaking of which. 

His Master was exactly where Keith had left him: staring holes into pond water, looking as if he was rethinking every choice that had ever brought him to this point. Keith nudged him with a toe.

“Food,” he said. 

“Thanks.” Lance took a pie without looking and tore off a chunk. He threw it into the lake.

They both watched it bob on the surface. 

“I stopped a criminal,” Keith said conversationally around a mouthful of pie. “He was stealing salt from the baker.”

“That’s nice. Why isn’t it biting?” Lance tore off another chunk and threw it. The hole he’d created let the filling ooze around his fingers. 

“Hey.” Keith snatched the pie back from him and sat down beside Lance, giving him a grumpy look. “If you’re just going to feed the pond monster, you’re not allowed to hold the pie. I’ll feed you myself if I have to.” 

“That’s it.” Lance undid the laces of his tunic and threw it off. “I’m going in, hold my pie.” He kicked off his shoes as he worked at the ties on his tights.

“Whoa.” Keith placed a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from moving as only a dragon could. “First of all, I already am. Second, I recognize that I am not the expert here, but the commissioner did say they had already tried diving for it. I know you want to move on, but at least take a break to eat. You’re cranky.” 

“Well the commissioner isn’t a mage,” Lance said with a pout. “Gah!” He threw his hand, splashing water across the surface, making a small wave. “Stupid monster!” He took the pie from Keith and stomped over to the grass. Sitting down in a huff, he bit off a good portion and chewed around his words, “I hate this. I’m not cut out for adventuring. If I were, I’d have become an adventurer.”

Serene as the unruffled, monsterless lake in front of them, Keith sat next to his Master to eat his lunch. “I’ll say. If you want, I’ll stay here by the lake and you can go back home. If I don’t see anything by midnight, we can give up and tell the commissioner to find his own lake monster.” 

“No.” Lance ran a hand through his hair. “We’re going to do this together. I’m the one that agreed so I’m not going to leave it to you.” He licked the dripping mess that was his pie. “How much did this cost us?”

“It didn’t.” Keith sat a little straighter. “I told you, I stopped a criminal. The baker gave me this for free as a thanks.” 

“Oh. Hm. That’s good. Good job.” Lance stared at his pie a little longer. “Were you in danger?”

“No. Decidedly not. I opened the door, he bumped into me, my glamour faltered, he screamed, dropped the salt, I caught the salt, I saved the day.” 

A small knot in Lance’s forehead smoothed. He took another bite. The pie was almost gone and he was regretting throwing part of it in the lake. “A true hero. Why was he stealing salt?”

“No idea.” Keith broke part of his pie off and handed it to Lance. “Here, take it, I’m the only dragon ever who hates lamb. The baker said it wasn’t the first time either. The butcher - you’ll never guess his name or where he lives - also had a bag of salt stolen.” 

“You can have as much lake monster as you want once we catch it. We only need the head.” Lance took the pie as he shoved the rest of his own in his mouth. “Waf i’ fon?”

Keith made a face. “Funny. No thank you. Some of us have standards.” He broke a piece off the brown loaf instead. “And yes, it was John. From down the lane.” He reached over to thumb the grease from the corner of Lance’s mouth, realized what he’d done, and looked away. “You ah - had -” He cleared his throat. 

Lance used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. “Thanks.” 

They both chewed for a while as they sat in comfortable silence. Lance licked the grease from his fingers and went to wipe them on his tunic. Right, he’d thrown it off. Maybe because he had a full stomach or maybe because of how close they were sitting, Lance wasn’t sure, but all of a sudden he was very aware that he was down to his underthings. One of his tights was hanging halfway down his thigh and it was the same thigh that was dangerously close to Keith. As discreetly as he could, he tied it back up.

“I wonder if we should be in the salt thieving business instead. This monster hunting thing isn’t as profitable as I hoped.”

“Well, it was once.” Keith picked at the crust of the bread, sending little grains of semolina all over his tunic. “Which is why I’m the only dragon I know.” 

Lance bit down on his tongue as a reminder not to blurt things out. He was an idiot. “Sorry. I didn’t mean-” He shrunk into himself, picking at the strings of his tights.

“It’s alright. Really.” Keith shrugged. “I just get curious sometimes. Shiro couldn’t answer all of my questions, so now and then I get a little. Uh. Blindsided.” His cheeks had darkened to a ruddy magenta and the pond was suddenly intensely interesting. 

“Blindsided by what?” Lance asked, voice soft and worried. 

“Uhhh.” Keith glanced up, eyebrows drawn tight. “Just - um. Dragon. Stuff? Stuff humans don’t deal with. Not even Adam could help, so. I’ve just had to sort of figure it out for myself.”

_ Dragon stuff? _ Oh, maybe Keith meant the death and destruction before the purge. “You know the dragons that murdered and ate people were different. They weren't familiars. You don’t have to compare yourself with them.” 

Sighing, Keith combed his bangs back with one hand. “I don’t think an animal preying on another is ‘murder,’ that’s just nature, but...anyway. The point is, I don’t think about it very much anymore. I just sometimes wish I had someone to answer my questions - that’s all. Okay? Let’s drop it.”

“If Shiro couldn’t answer your questions, maybe I could. I could do some research-”

“No! No. It’s, uh. It’s fine. Thank you, Master.” Keith’s face and neck were flushed. “I don’t need to know more about dragonkind to be your familiar, so uh. No need.”

“Maybe…” Lance mused. It was obviously upsetting Keith and it could be the one thing he could be better at than Shiro; understanding dragons. “But I might, since you’re a dragon. It could be useful for me to know more. Then you could come to me instead of Shiro.”

Keith rolled his eyes, unwilling to humor Lance in the weird rivalry he’d invented for himself with Shiro. Instead, he flopped back into the grass and closed his eyes to nap. 

“Or you could take a nap.” 

Lance paced the shore of the lake, trying to entice the monster out with little ripples. The angrier he got, the less the ripples looked like food and the more they looked like water spouts. Candlemark after candlemark he did the same things over and over with the same result: nothing. Exhausted and frustrated, he sat down next to Keith. 

Keith’s hair was splayed all around his head, blades of grass sticking through the ebony locks. His skin shone in the late afternoon sun, the golden light bringing a rosiness to his cheeks. Lance turned away.  _ Improper, _ he told himself. Still… He couldn’t help but look.

Watching Keith nap was actually quite relaxing and soon Lance was less upset about their failed quest and more interested in studying Keith and the way his full lips parted as his chest slowly rose and fell. Sometimes little plumes of smoke curled out and his teeth would snap together. Lance wondered if he was hunting something. That small pie was definitely not enough for a growing dragon and Lance had eaten most of it. 

He nudged Keith's shoulder. "Hey, we should go home. I can make dinner. C'mon." 

Little firefly sparks of ember accompanied the grumpy puff of smoke as Keith huffed and rolled towards Lance. “Mmnf.” 

_ Cute.  _ "Hey, Keith wake up," he whispered as if trying not to wake him up at all. 

“M’name’s not Keith,” mumbled his dragon, whose name was definitely Keith. 

"What's your name then?" 

Keith’s lips curled back in a smirk, showing off his polished fangs. “ _ Darkblaze _ ,” he whispered. 

Lance snorted. "Of course it is." 

With a sigh, Lance leaned back on his hands. It would be okay to let him sleep a while longer. He was the town hero after all, saving their salt. 

Lance watched the sunset over the treetops. Stars appeared one by one, forming the Goddesses of nature and magic with their pinpoints of light. He said a silent prayer to them that may not have been the most reverent. There was definitely a cutting line about shitty fates and stupid adventures.

Lance had just gotten around to throwing in a line or two about bringing a good harvest to the village and peace to its people when he devolved into selfish requests. As long as the Goddesses were granting wishes, it wouldn’t hurt if they added a halfway decent merchant who specialized in face cream to market day, and it’d be even better if they could bless their forest with more beehives for honey- A scream from a few streets down interrupted his immoral prayer. 

Keith sat up with a snort and his hair full of grass. “What in all hells, Master, you didn’t have to  _ shriek. _ ”

"It wasn't me." Lance looked around for the source. 

Shaking his head to clear the sleep, Keith pricked his ears forward towards the village. It wasn’t strictly necessary since several villagers were already running towards the source, which marked itself with the ominous rise of orange light over the thatched roofs. He looked to Lance for orders. “Should we go help?” 

"Ugh, we might as well see what's happening before we leave. Maybe you can score us some pies for the trip home.” Lance glared at the water, still calm and monster-less. 

He stood fully and held his hand out to heft Keith up. They followed the crowd to the commotion. Lance kept a spell at the ready just in case, the water weaving between his fingertips. 

They followed the stream of people jogging towards the light, and were not surprised to find smoke rising from a wooden barn. The thatched roof had already been blazing and pieces of it were embering down to catch the grass. 

Keith caught the arm of one of the villagers. “Why is no one putting out the fire? Where are the bucket brigades?”

He turned with wide, fear-choked eyes. “Farmer set it on fire hisself. There’s some kind of horrible beastie, got inside, et the cows. Fire’s the best way to kill it.”

Keith glanced at Lance. 

“Maybe this is our lake monster?” That would explain why the lake was so still; it was hiding out in barns. “We should check.”

“I should check,” Keith corrected. “Unless you’ve suddenly become fireproof, there’s no way I’m letting you walk into that.” 

Lance judged the blaze. Keith was right, he should go alone, but there was still a monster inside. There was no way he was letting Keith fight it alone in a burning barn, dragon or not.

“Smoke it out. You have three minutes or I’m coming in after you.”

Keith nodded and ran toward the barn, almost a little too eager, it seemed, to have something to finally do. He maneuvered through the wreckage of the entryway and disappeared inside, much to the dismay and shouts of several villagers. The man he’d been talking to earlier gripped Lance by the arm.

“What’s your friend trying to do? He’s gonna burn right along with the barn!”

"You hired us to fight monsters, there's a monster. If it's the wrong one, I guess you'll have to pay us extra." Lance's eyes never left the burning building. Keith would be fine, right? A lake monster in a fire meant it was already halfway to dead… 

That was before the screaming started. 

This wasn’t Keith’s surprised yell. This was ice-cold, panicked, voice-cracking terror. 

Lance didn’t think - he ran. The beams cracked and sparks fell from above. The heat was oppressing and his whole body screamed to leave. Smoke choked in his throat and burned his eyes. Tears fell as he pushed through. Past the turn to the stables, he found Keith surrounded by burning hay and screaming horses. And a giant-ass fucking spider. 

Not sheep-sized, not horse-sized, not even the size of the hay cart. It almost didn’t fit in the barn.

"Keith, get back!" Lance shot a blast of water at the frothing monster. 

Keith rolled to the side, but he wasn’t waiting around. Now that Lance was in danger, he’d stopped screaming and started running, grabbing Lance around the middle and bringing him with. “NOT. A LAKE MONSTER,” he yelled over the roaring of flames and crackling wood.

“I can-” Lance broke into coughing as he clung to Keith. “-see that. Why is there a spider?” he squeezed the words out.

“ _ Why is it huge?”  _ Keith yelled the more pertinent question as he threw himself against the fallen beam blocking the exit, shielding Lance with his wings. They burst into the square, which caused several people to scream and start running. 

Keith panted and looked down at his clawed feet. “Uh...guess I lost my glamour somewhere along the way.”

The spider shrieked as it followed, the long hairs on its body glowing as they caught on the embers. It charged them and it didn’t look happy. 

“Not really the important thing right now.” Lance pushed Keith off so that he could shoot another blast of water at the spider. It didn’t do much, mostly put out the parts of it that were on fire. 

“Something’s not right!” Keith launched himself up and beat his wings to hover, aiming for its eyes with his cone of flames. “Besides the obvious!” One of the legs covered its face, protecting its vision from the onslaught, but turning the leg into a shriveled mess.

“What could be more wrong than a giant wet spider trying to kill us?” Okay, Keith wanted to blind it, Lance could do that and it was probably better than making it wetter. He concentrated and clapped his hands together. A mushroom sprouted from the beast’s eye, the cap completely covering it. One down.

The spider backed up, trying to rub at its mushroom-eye with the knee joint of one of its legs. While it was distracted, Keith shot another cone at it and managed to burst another of its eyes. He landed next to Lance and pointed as the spider reared up, exposing its underside.

“It’s foaming green stuff - look. From its mouth...hole...thing.” 

“Chelicerae,” Lance interjected. 

Keith gave him the most impatient, wide-eyed look of disbelief possible. “ _ FOAMING MOUTH HOLE, Master!  _ Focus! Is it enchanted or something?”

“Its  _ chelicerae _ are definitely strange, but-” Lance was cut off by a leg slamming down between them. He jumped back, or more like he tried to turn his stumble into a jump to get out of the way. “Smoosh spider,  _ then _ ask questions. That order. Go!”

“Smoosh it?! With what?!” Keith shrieked, dodging the swipe of another leg and trying to direct his fire into the spider’s underbelly when it pulled back. The fire bounced off and fizzled in the sand around the barn.

“A giant shoe, I don’t know. Anything!” 

Keith hesitated. “I could probably handle it if I went into primal form.”

“And get murdered by the villagers? I don’t think so.” Lance got another eye covered with mushrooms, a bunch of tiny ones this time. It was faster to make the small ones in clusters than try to make one big one. 

Keith groaned and hopped in place for a few seconds before charging forward, sliding under the blind swipe of a massive leg to wrap his arms around a different one. While Lance was busy covering the last eye, he concentrated on heating his body, letting the dragonfire in his gullet rise up until the air around him was wavering. The spider’s leg burst into flames, and when Keith wrenched it away, the joint where it had been connected had turned to ash. He looked at the disembodied, hairy leg he was holding, then bent to the side and retched. 

Lance covered his own mouth, trying not to follow suit. The first mushroom, the big one, exploded, raining water down the side of the spider and onto Keith. They were definitely demanding extra payment.

The spider...made a noise. The closest thing to describe it was likely “howl” or “scream,” but it also carried the sort of piercing resonance that made Lance’s brain hurt. He and Keith both slapped their hands over their ears from instinct, before Keith wrenched his away and grit his teeth, heading back towards Lance to regroup.

There was the sound of rushing air overhead. The next thing Lance knew, Keith was calling out for him before their bodies collided and Keith pinned him to the ground, covering him with his wings. 

The ground knocked the wind from Lance and Keith’s body crushed him so he couldn’t breathe. He gasped, but he couldn’t get air into his lungs. Clawing desperately at Keith did nothing. The dragon above him pinned him down, not letting him escape

Lance realized why a moment later. The rushing sound must have been the whizzing of bombs overhead, because three of them collided with the spider and burst into clouds of glittering black smoke. Lance watched it spread between the split of Keith’s wings. It bloomed upwards, outwards, towards them, and the spider’s awful cry intensified. 

“What in all hells…” Keith peered at it, trying to see through the smog and finally releasing Lance.

From the middle of the blackness rose three massive green serpents, or rather, green light in the shape of serpents. They hissed sparks and all wrapped around the spider several times, constricting it so hard that the mushrooms on its eyes burst from the pressure. 

“Binding smoke, fuck.” Lance stood on shaking legs and tugged on Keith's tunic. “We need to leave. This is way over our heads.”

Keith followed him up with a groan. “I won’t argue. No one said anything about-” 

He was cut off by an innocuous-sounding pop that completely belied the explosion that accompanied it. The massive, house-sized spider burst, sending hair and bits of singed leg and plenty of bright green liquid spewing through the air. A fat blob of it landed on Lance’s arm and started to sizzle. 

The pain wasn’t immediate. Lance shook his arm, and wiped the goop off with his other hand before it hit him. Slow, then sharp pain spiked up his arm and through his hand. He screamed and tried to shake it off again as he washed it with the other hand. “Keith!” The shirt sleeve was completely dissolved away and his skin lay puffy and red underneath the melted threads. 

Keith’s eyes widened. “Oh shit. Okay. C’mere, we’ve got a supply kit with our stuff back by the lake.” He swept an arm under Lance’s knees and hoisted him up, holding him protectively. 

The green snakes uncoiled and dissolved into the black smoke. From the treeline, just beyond the shell of what had once been the barn, came the sound of steel hitting steel. 

Keith shook his head. “Don’t have time to worry about whoever just saved our asses, I guess. I’m writing this village off forever. We’re never taking another contract here.” 

“Agreed,” Lance said, with a hitch to his voice. “I’m so done.”

He took off into the air, hoping that the general mayhem of fire, giant spiders and indeterminate fighting would distract from the half-dragon features of his human form. It was a short flight back to the lake and their bags were exactly where they’d been left. He grabbed their emergency supplies and held up the bag. “Anything in particular you want me to use? I have no idea how to treat...whatever the hells that is.”

“Acid burn. You’ll need to get the ointment at the bottom, it should be greenish and smell minty.” Lance clenched his arm right over the burn. His burnt hand throbbed along with his arm and he bit his lip so he wouldn’t cry. He was  _ not  _ an adventurer. “I don’t care how poor we are, we’re never doing this again.”

Keith valiantly tried to smile, soft and encouraging, but the worry overpowered it. “Always more wood to be chopped. Aha.” He pulled the cork from the little pot and scooped a bunch of the light green cream onto his hands and then gingerly touched it to Lance’s burn.

Lance hissed, cringing. It hurt. The magic seeped into his skin, tearing it apart to remend it. It looked disgusting. Lance had to turn away or he'd get sick. Holding his breath, he ran his hand down his arm, the pulp of it slick and wet. He let out his breath in a groan and fell forward only to have Keith catch him. 

“Steady, there,” he said, calm and comforting. “It’ll be over soon. Lucky you always keep some of what you make, aren’t we?”

“I hate it. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. I just wanna go home.”

“I know.” Keith popped the cork back in. “I can carry you, if you like, but we should go now. I can still hear fighting in the treeline from whoever threw those smoke bombs and we don’t want to be caught in someone else’s crossfire. 

Behind Keith, the lake began to glow a bioluminescent green.

“Um. Keith?” 

“I know, we shouldn’t risk it, but you’re injured and it’s dark. I’ll fly high.”

The green water brightened and began to bubble. 

Lance pointed toward the lake. “I think we found the monster.”

Keith whirled around. “Oh, fuck,” he agreed. 

The original contract had described a “frog-like creature” but the thing that rushed at them - quite literally, speeding forwards as if propelled and sending waves up on either side - definitely warranted a few more adjectives. It was the size of a human, maybe five feet, and while it did have the webbed hands and feet of a frog, that was where the similarities ended. Its face was humanoid, with long, dripping hair and pupiless yellow eyes. From its open mouth and unhinged jaw fell a tongue that was nearly the length of its entire body. It was hunched, with a fin down its back that ended in spiny tips, and worst of all: enormous, flapping, deflated breasts. 

“Definitely not a frog,” Keith reiterated as he placed himself in front of Lance, drawing his long dagger. 

“Oh fuck no.” Lance let his head fall back in frustration. “Why is it a water hag? This is  _ not _ worth it. I would rather have the spider.”

The water hag reached the shore, which slowed her down at least. Clumsier on land, she took loping strides towards Lance, raising an abnormally long arm to swipe at him. When he dodged, she hissed and let out a poisonous cloud. 

Keith swung his tail around to knock Lance out of the way, breathing fire into the green smog. It burst into sickly smoke and the hag shrieked, aiming for the water to douse the flames. Before she could, Keith ran forward and swiped at her with his knife, making her recoil a few feet away. 

Lance raised his hands and hesitated. His offensive magic knowledge was limited. He’d only mastered water and the properties of various flora. Water against a water hag didn’t seem like it would do much of anything. Keith growled as the hag lifted herself to standing with shaking arms. 

“Run!” Keith called behind him. “Just run, get outside the village and hide, I’ll find yo-”

Another cloud of gas caught Keith while he was talking and he stumbled.

The sound of swords clanking grew closer and arrows filled the sky. A few stabbed down into the rubbery flesh of the hag and one caught Keith on the side of his face. 

Lance screamed. Rushing forward, white crystallized on the outskirts of his vision. People in gray, their faces covered, were fighting a bunch of others wearing dark blue. It was the strangest sight Lance had ever seen and yet it only furthered the danger Keith was in. Goddesses if everyone would just, “Stop!” 

The white completely took over his vision, a blizzard of dust against his eyes. 

~🍄~

Lance blinked into the darkness. The damp ground froze to his skin and the dank air pulled a rattling and wet cough from his lungs. He felt around blindly and bumped into something hard. “Keith?” He couldn’t remember how he got here or if he was with Keith...wherever here was. 

There was no answer. He felt up the side of the hard thing. It was rough and cold and definitely not Keith. It felt like a barrel. He used it to lift himself to stand and wobbled as his body protested. The barrel tilted, sloshing. Wine? Mead? Was he in a cellar? Why? “Keith?” he tried again, his voice raw and scratchy.

“M’here,” came the groggy, rumbling voice from somewhere off to his left. There was the sound of scratching against the packed earth of the floor before he felt a hand blindly groping at his face. “Msster?”

“Keith,” he said his name with a relieved sigh. He threw himself into Keith’s arms, hugging him close. “You’re safe. Are you okay?”

Keith’s hands rubbed along his back absently, as if his body was two steps ahead of his brain and reacting on instinct. “Think so...head hurts pretty bad.” His voice was still a little slurred. “What about you? Where are we?” 

“Not fighting a spider hag, that’s for sure.” Lance’s head hurt and he wanted to go back to sleep. At least Keith was warm, even if he smelled like charred pond scum and sweat.

“Dun think ‘spider hag’ is a thing,” Keith slurred, but he sat back from Lance enough to blow into his cupped hands, holding a contained flame up like a candle so he could examine Lance’s face. Even as he turned Lance’s chin back and forth, searching for injuries, the flickers of light caught on the shiny, matted blood along one side of his head as well as some impressive bruises and swelling. 

Lance winced against the bright flame. “You’re hurt. Where’s m’bag?”

“Who knows.” Keith swiveled around, stretching his arm out to illuminate the darkness as best he could. They were most certainly in a low-ceilinged cellar, with a packed dirt floor and plenty of barrels stacked around them. “Whoever put us in here probably took our stuff.”

“Can you hold the flame to your face?”

Keith obeyed, holding it up near his cheek. 

Lance stood up on his knees and gently poked around the side of Keith’s head, trying his best not to touch the wound itself. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t deadly. There was lots of blood since it was a head wound, which made it look worse than it was. Still, he didn’t want to have Keith go long without cleaning it. “We’ll need to disinfect it. Can you get us out of here and we can get my bag from the thieves?”

Groaning, Keith nodded and got to his knees. “Let me find the door. I have to put this out first. Don’t move so I can find you again.”

“Be careful.” Lance let his hand drag down as Keith left him and the light snuffed out. 

Shuffling sounds proceeded away from Lance, accompanied by the occasional thump as Keith hit something to try and determine what it was. After several thousand years, he finally called back, “Found the door.” He grunted. Grunted again. Groaned and then gasped. “...I can’t open it. Something must be on top.”

“Something that could stop a dragon?” Lance stood, groping with his hands out in front of him. “No such thing.”

The rattling and banging sounded again and again, getting steadily more frantic. “I’m serious. I can’t get it to move. I think - think we’re trapped. Down here.”

Lance followed the sounds, taking tiny steps so he didn’t stub his toe or bang his head on the unseen. “You moved an entire boulder out of our stream. What kind of door is that?” His hands touched leathery wings.

“I don’t know.” Keith’s voice was becoming faint and his breath panicky. “I don’t know, I can’t even get it to rattle much.” 

“You don’t sound so good. Come sit down. I think your wound is worse than I thought.” Smoothing his hands down Keith’s wings, Lance tried his best to calm him.

“I can’t! I have to - have to get us out - out of -”

“You have to sit down so you don’t bleed out.” Lance tugged gently on Keith to bring him to the ground, making soothing noises every time he tried to complain.

“Not bleeding,” Keith protested, but he lit another flame nonetheless.

Lance touched the sensitive skin around the wound and Keith winced. “I need to treat this and without my bag, I don’t know how.” Not to mention they were likely underground and there were only wooden barrels surrounding them. Not an herb in sight. 

The barrels. 

“Stay. Don’t move.”

Lance waited a moment to make sure Keith would listen, then fumbled his way to the closest barrel. He still felt like shit, but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t the one bleeding from the head. Lucky him, the barrel’s wax was broken and opened easily. It looked like someone else had been sneaking a drink or five. The liquid was halfway empty already, but it definitely smelled like alcohol. 

He looked down at his burnt and dirt-stained shirt. With a sigh, he tugged it off. The movement sent him into a coughing fit, but he tried his best to muffle it. 

“Master?” Keith called, high and nervous. “Stay there, I’ll come to you!”

“No, I told you to stay. I’m fine.”

Turning the shirt inside out, he ripped out the lining and tore the lining into strips. 

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“It’s alright, Keith. These barrels are harmless, I promise.” Dipping a strip of cloth into the alcohol, Lance squeezed it and made another. When he had a nice bundle of soaked rags, he followed the light back to Keith. “Here. Let me see your face again,” he almost whispered. 

Keith frowned. “You sound like you’re in pain. Open the bond.”

“Shh. Your talking is pulling the skin.” He dabbed the first cloth on the outer rim of the gash. A whole chunk of Keith’s hair was matted with blood. He might need more than a few rags. Hopefully, they’d get out of there before he had to give Keith a bath in wine. 

Keith sullenly shut his mouth but almost immediately, Lance felt the push at the base of his skull that said Keith was asking for entrance to his mana pool. 

“Hey,” Lance glared down at Keith, shutting him out completely. “I don’t do that to you.”

“You don’t have to,” Keith argued back. “Because you never try it, and if you did, I’d let you in. Since that’s about half of my job. But you’d rather go completely depleted than dare to even  _ ask.” _

“I’m trying to respect your privacy. I told you I’m fine. You’re the one trying to force your way in to check on me like some... _ youngling _ who needs your protection.”

“It’s why I was born!” Keith’s hissed outburst echoed strangely in the close confines between floor and ceiling. It made the blood trickle down his cheek, fresh and exacerbated. “I'm not the fool you think I am, I can tell you’re depleted  _ again.  _ Yet, for some reason I’ve never figured out, after all this time, you  _ still  _ won’t touch the bond link. I know you said your resentment wasn’t towards me, but honestly, Master, I’m  _ really  _ starting to question that.”

“I’m not depleted.” Wine ran between Lance’s fingers and he realized he was squeezing the life out of the rags. “And I don’t resent you. How many times do I have to tell you before you believe me?”

Keith’s eyes flashed on their own in the darkness without the aid of his pitiful little palm-candle. “You don’t trust me. You never have. And the way this is going, seems you never will.” 

Lance really wanted to throw the rags right in Keith’s face. “I went to trial for you, got kicked out for you, I-” He did throw the rags, but not at his face. They slapped wetly against Keith’s lap and fell to the dirt floor. “I live in a shack in the goddess-forsaken Deepmist forest and - and- tutor rejected mages for you. How dare you say that.”

“Then open the bond,” Keith challenged. “I’m your familiar. Open it and pull from my mana pool.”

"You're missing the entire point!" Lance yelled and it threw him into a coughing fit. Phlegm rattled in his lungs with every breath. When it'd passed, he was left sitting in the accusing silence of Keith's glare. 

Lance didn't understand, he'd thought they'd been doing so well. Why did Keith care if he went a little depleted now and then? It wasn't as bad as a head wound and he'd done it for years before the summoning. 

"The  _ point  _ is," he said, breaking the silence, "that you're bleeding and I'm not. Stop trying to push yourself." 

The yellow light of Keith’s eyes narrowed. “I knew it.”

"Knew what exactly, Keith? That I want to take care of you? That I don't like to see you hurt? What exactly is it that you know?" 

From the shift of the shadows, Lance could track Keith’s eyes glancing around, looking for somewhere to go, to escape the urgent press of his Master’s voice and cool down. They stopped when they landed again on the oppressive door. His breathing became audible again, rising into shallow, quick pants, that made his words sound sharp. 

“Don’t you think I want that too? Did you ever once stop to think that I can tell - I can  _ feel  _ \- hells, you know what? I can  _ smell  _ when you’re exhausted. I can feel the hollowness, right in our bond, even with as broken and weak as it is.” His words came with the unintentional licks of flame that always signaled Keith was getting truly distressed. They caught the rags at his feet and light flared to life between them. 

Keith looked horrifying in its glow, with his pupils turned to slits and fresh blood dripping down the side of his face. “You’ll fuss around me but the minute I try to do the same, try to do what I was  _ born to do  _ \- literally! It’s why I hatched! - you’ll make some excuse and pull away when I can  _ smell  _ your hesitance, your  _ fear _ . Do I  _ frighten  _ you, Master?”

Oh, Keith scared him alright, but not like that. It had nothing to do with his fangs, or his claws, or the fire in his belly or any of the ways he could kill within a heartbeat. Rather, it had everything to do with the face he made when he was concentrating, the gentle way he brushed Lance’s bangs back to check him over, the mess he put his hair into, and the rare sound of his uninhibited laugh. “No,” Lance said, voice tight.

“Then why?” The anger was melting away and leaving something worse in its wake. Keith looked…‘sad’ didn’t begin to cover it. It was clear that this had been festering inside him for a while, probably since their disastrous summoning, and he’d been swallowing it down every day. It was equally apparent that Keith hadn’t meant to bring it up, especially here, now, trapped in a dark cellar for reasons neither of them could recall, but that now that the dam had burst he was helpless to stop it. 

If he opened up to Keith, let him in, then he'd  _ know.  _ He'd know  _ why _ and all its layers. Lance shook his head. He was disgusting. There was no way he'd let Keith find out, he couldn't. 

There was a strange, keening sound in the darkness. 

No. He wasn’t. There was no way. 

When he looked up, Keith’s face was wet in the meager firelight. His eyes were squeezed shut as if he were in pain, and fresh, wet tracks were streaking through the mud and blood and grime. The sound broke off in a gasp, and then Keith’s shoulders really started to shake, even as he clamped a hand to his mouth to muffle himself. 

It shocked Lance down to his core. He reached for Keith but at the last moment clenched his fist before they touched. Not once in all their time together had he seen Keith cry, split open and raw in front of him.

In a last-ditch effort to protect himself, Keith turned away from the light and wrapped his wings around himself in a tight shield so that even if Lance could still hear it, he couldn’t actually see when his dragon truly began to cry.

That hurt. The muffled sobs ripped right through his very soul. He could feel their bond shredding, the fragile ends that kept them together fraying around the edges and pulling tight despite the fact that Keith was inches away. No matter how desperately he grabbed onto them to hold them together, they slipped away, pulling deeper into Keith. 

Keith himself started to feel like an empty void where his warmth used to burn inside of Lance. It was almost as if Keith was cutting himself off. Was this what Lance had been doing to him? Every time he shut himself off, was this what it felt like to Keith? 

“I-” But what was there to say? Lance’d hurt Keith in ways that he wasn’t even sure he understood. “Keith…”

Keith didn’t answer. From what it sounded like, he could barely catch a breath. The leathery skin of his wings creaked as he balled up tighter, shrinking away from Lance in every possible way. 

If someone else had done this to Keith, well, Lance wouldn’t have been able to guarantee their safety. For once, he hated Keith’s wings, the way they shut him out. Sucking in a breath, he laid the flat of his hand against one wing. 

It flinched but didn’t budge. 

“Keith,” he said and goddesses, the way Keith shrunk away from his voice made Lance want to throw up. “Please.”

“ _ What _ ,” Keith snapped, muffled and wet. 

Lance shrunk back, pulling his legs into his chest. He had no idea how to fix this and it  _ hurt. _ “Was - is this what I was doing to you?” he asked into his knees.

“Which part?” His voice was sharp and accusatory. “Pushing me away? Weakening the bond? Thinning it every time I reached out and got blocked? Denying me as your familiar? Lying to me? Then  _ yes.  _ Of course you haven’t felt it, because you  _ never touch it,  _ but yes, Master, now that you’ve noticed - surprise. Our bond is almost completely dried out. And it has been. For  _ weeks. _ ”

"I haven't!" Lance's defenses rose and then immediately crumbled at the glare Keith threw over his shoulder, glowing in the darkness. "I didn't mean to, I didn't know." 

“No. You didn’t.” Keith sucked in a shuddering breath. 

"I just wanted to be the kind of mage worthy of you. To be as good as Shiro." Lance's fingernails dug into the fabric of his tights. "I thought if I stood on my own then maybe you'd be happy with who summoned you." 

“I’ve never been  _ un _ happy! Except for all the times you shut me out!” The tears were running hard again, thickening Keith’s words. His wings drew back so he could stare at Lance, wide-eyed and with the torrent of his emotions completely on display. “Yes, I watched Shiro and Adam growing up and all I ever dreamed about was a bond as strong as theirs, but I wanted that with an amazing  _ person _ , which has nothing to do with being an amazing  _ mage _ .” He hiccupped around the tears as his tirade quieted, exhaustion clear in the slump of his shoulders. “I got what I wanted. You’re the only one here who’s dissatisfied.”

Lance wanted to wash Keith of all his sadness, wipe him clean of tears and grime. But Keith was right, he was completely empty. He crooked a finger, trying to bring one of the tears to him, and his stomach turned. He couldn’t even manipulate water. It would be so easy,  _ so easy _ to reach out and open up and let Keith’s mana pour into him. Even now, even with all the pain he’d caused, he knew Keith would let him. He didn’t. 

“I’ll never be Shiro,” he said, voice cracking on the real meaning behind those words. It was the closest he’d ever come to admitting his dream of becoming King’s Mage was impossible. 

Keith scoffed and the wings went back up. “You’re still not listening. You never have. You’ve always decided how I feel, anticipate what I’m going to think and say and never give me the chance. I don’t  _ want  _ Shiro, I just want -” He cut himself off. “What does it matter what I want.” 

“Tell me.” Lance reached out, brushing his fingers against the packed earth until they bumped Keith’s leg. “I’m too stupid to figure it out on my own.”

“No. I’ve already told you. I’m tired of trying.”

“I know.” It was always Keith trying to please and Lance trying to prove himself. It was time Lance stopped trying to be who he thought deserved Keith and be the person who’d summoned him, flaws and all. He pushed his hand up between the cracks in Keith’s wings and gently pushed one aside. It moved easily. Under it, he could finally see the whole of Keith’s broken face and his heart lurched. “I’ve never had a familiar before and I’ve definitely fucked it up, but I can’t lose you. I won’t. I just don’t know how to fix it. If I-” He squeezed his eyes shut so he didn’t have to see Keith’s heavy gaze. “If I let you in, you might not like what you find.”

Keith was quiet for a while, save for the pathetic sniffling as he calmed himself down. Eventually, in a small voice, he offered, “I won’t try again. I don’t want to open the bond if it isn’t wanted-”

“I want it!” Lance was panicking now. He had no idea how they’d gone from trying to escape a cellar to spilling their hearts on the dirt floor, but now that they were here, he wasn’t going to let Keith think he was unwanted. Not any more than he already had. “I want you. Keith, you’re a dream. The best familiar in over a century. Of course I want you and the bond that you come with.” 

The look Keith gave Lance was cold. “I’m going to repeat myself one last time and then I won’t ever bring it up again. I wanted an amazing person. I got what I wanted. And if I could do it over, be summoned by someone else, I would still. Pick.  _ You. _ ”

Lance’s hand fell and he blinked back tears. “You don’t understand. I’m not what you think.”

“Then give me the chance to make that decision for myself.” Keith’s voice was flat, but he reached forward, barely scratching Lance’s thigh. “Follow it to me. I’ll open it for you and you can look around all you like. I won’t follow back. But I want you to know once and for all exactly how I feel, so you can’t ever twist it against yourself again.”

With a trembling hand, Lance grabbed Keith’s and nodded. “I can do that.”

It was exactly like when he’d summoned Keith - like plunging head-first into a pool of lava, or liquid gold. Keith’s mana was red, and that reserve was, as before, totally unfathomable in its depth. The strong gold, then, was Keith himself. Lance reached forward, touching the closest stream of glittering liquid sunfire, and was immediately filled with visions that pulsed with sound and color and emotion. He saw himself bent over his alchemy table in their old laboratory and smelled the fumes and felt the fondness and pride. He saw them laughing together at the ball, spinning and smiling, nightlilies and starlight and happiness as effervescent as champagne. He saw himself taking Keith’s hand in their ruined tower, the firm way he’d said _“Together”_ that sent a jolt through Keith so strong it had taken his breath. 

Before Lance could even process what happened, he was pulled into another stream. The images and feelings flew by so quickly, it was making him dizzy.

There was woodsmoke and damp leaves, their new home, and he’d fallen asleep on the table, drooling on the wood. He saw something he hadn’t seen when it happened in real life - the way Keith reached out to stroke a knuckle along his cheek and the absolutely overwhelming wave of sweet rose-pink affection that action caused. 

Lance pressed the knuckles of his own hand to his cheek like a mirror. He didn’t remember how it felt and the sudden loss of a memory he’d never had made him want to bottle this moment like one of his potions. He stayed there longer than he should have, watching it over and over, trying to feel what he never knew. The stream picked him up and carried him away before he found out. 

Every vision of himself had variations - time, scent, and scenery - but there were a few emotions that never wavered. Eagerness to please. To do well for Lance. To make him proud. Not because he was Master, but because he was Lance, and Keith, himself, was proud. Proud  _ of  _ Lance. Proud to be his Familiar. And there, under it all, was the consistent, honey-gold emotion he couldn’t quite grasp. Affection? Fondness. More.

It was ethereal and slipped from his fingers every time he tried to hold on. Without even thinking about it, he pulled some of Keith’s mana and mixed it into the thread. It sparked blue and turned solid. Grasping it, he was thrown into their cabin. The fire downstairs crackled and the moon poured in over the bed of his barren room. There, under the furs and snoring softly, he lay tangled in Keith’s arms. One wing was splayed over him and it rose and fell with Lance’s breath. Mesmerized, Lance tiptoed forward as if he’d wake the past if he was too loud. 

Keith was propped up on his elbow and running his fingers through Lance’s hair. His mouth was moving but no sound was coming out. 

Pulling more mana, Lance pressed deeper into the memory. It flashed bright and Keith’s words became crystal clear. “Why can't it always be like this? Why aren’t you always this open with me, and not only while you sleep?”

Lance covered his mouth. He’d gone too far. This was too private. No wonder it’d been muted and impossible to follow. The honey-gold emotion ran thick through every word and every motion.

He opened his eyes and squinted through the darkness. “Keith. I- I didn’t know.” 

Keith’s entire body was stiff, but he held still, stubbornly kept himself open. “No. You didn’t. But now you do. And now you can decide what to do with me.” 

What was he going to do now that he knew? Knew he wasn’t the only one crossing a line that was never supposed to be crossed? Lance squeezed Keith’s hand. Maybe Keith wouldn’t find Lance as disgusting as he thought. 

Or worse. Maybe once he knew the larger, more damning reason Lance had kept him out, all that warm gold would disappear. 

“I want you to see,” he said earnestly. “I want you to know why I was so scared.” Without waiting for a response, Lance pulled him in; grabbed the bond and tugged.

“Wait, what do you-” 

It wasn’t the same, letting Keith in. He couldn’t really see anything the way he had before. He couldn’t even really feel Keith. It was more like an explosion of emotion. Every place Keith touched triggered the purest of feelings. He was completely exposed. It made him want to push Keith out. Lance bit down on his lip, doing his best to be as open as Keith had been. 

He knew what Keith would see. He knew what his mana pool looked like, hollow and broken, like a shattered kaleidoscope. The fragments of it were split across his soul. A broken Master. Keith would know, he’d reject him. Panic ran hot and new across his cheeks, breath coming in short spurts. 

Keith sleeping in the fireplace, Keith buried in the bog up to his neck, Keith brewing tea by the fire while Lance read. The memories came one after the other, but all he could think about was that now there was no hiding it. Keith knew. He  _ knew.  _

Desperate, Lance grabbed Keith’s arm, the one he was holding. He held on, scared at any moment Keith would disappear. 

Keith haloed by the sun, flowers stuck in his hair, the words  _ beautiful _ replaying over and over, but behind every soft memory, every shared moment, was Lance crashing to the bottom of his trickling mana pool, his magic tainted and impure.  _ Not quite water,  _ it whispered to Keith. _ Told on him. _ Taunted Lance as it exposed him for what he really was, what he’d lied about. Star Cursed was painted in every crevice of his soul. 

When Keith pulled back, it was as sudden as a bowstring. They snapped into themselves and sat there, gasping and panting. Keith looked up at him, yellow-lit eyes darting back and forth like fireflies in the dark. He swallowed. 

Reached a shaky hand forward. Cupped Lance’s cheek. Repeated the movement with the other side. 

Then Lance was jerked forward and crushed against Keith’s chest in the most bruising hug of his life. 

Lance didn’t know what he expected after that, but it wasn’t this. All the months of hiding, all the months of longing and fear came crashing to the surface. He clung to Keith like he was drowning, and maybe he really was. His face was wet enough. Tears streamed down his face and even though Keith’s grip was almost painful, he pushed himself closer.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Keith insisted fervently. “Listen to me, Master, you hear me? There is  _ nothing  _ wrong with you.”

“You can’t say that.” Lance shook his head, wiping his tears all over Keith’s shirt. “You saw, I know you did.”

“I did. That’s exactly why I’m able to say that.” Keith pushed him back enough to catch his eyes in the dying light of their accidental torch. “And if you aren’t sure, follow it right back down and test me. But maybe from now on, you’ll believe that I mean what I say. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I hurt you and pushed you away.” Lance sniffled and wiped his nose with his arm. “I’m not the kind of good person you keep saying I am.”

This time, instead of a hug, he got a light smack to the side of his head. 

“Hey.” He rubbed the spot, pouting.

“ _ Stop.  _ Please. Stop. You’re insulting me too when you say that, you know, since the Old Magic chose me specifically for you.” Keith crossed his arms and stared at him pointedly. “I suppose that makes me just as bad as you, right?” 

“That doesn’t even make sense.” Lance hiccuped and glared. “Two seconds ago you listed all of my bad traits, did you forget them between then and now?”

Keith shook his head, no longer playful. “I didn’t say you were perfect. I said you weren’t a bad person. And I can’t pretend it won’t take me a little while to get over, but at least now I know why you’ve pushed me away all this time.”

“I won’t do it again.” Seeing Keith hurt like that was worse than all the years of bullying, all the years of ridicule and hiding. He’d die before he’d see Keith curled in on himself, hiding behind his wings ever again. “I promise. I won’t.”

Keith sighed and went to rub his temples, but hissed and pulled his hand away right as the last of the wine burned off the rag and sent them back into complete darkness. He mumbled something and a flame flared to life in his free hand as he examined the blood on his fingers. “Forgot about that,” he muttered, then slumped, exhausted, against a support beam. 

“M’faul-all right, it’ll be alright.” Lance cupped the side of Keith’s face and sighed. Drew in a breath, and opened their bond. “I’m going to clean you up, okay? I just need some help.”

Keith nodded, closing his eyes. “Take s’much as you want, not like I can burn our way out. And I’m thirsty. And cold.” 

That stopped Lance in his tracks. “You’re cold? You?” He leaned in, squinting in the dim light to examine the cut. “I really wish I had my bag.”

“Sorry,” Keith murmured. 

“You didn’t do anything.” As gently as possible, Lance washed the side of Keith’s face, working his way through the clumped strands of hair. He’d still need to use the alcohol, but this was a lot easier with Keith’s mana. The bond was still stiff, dried up and unkempt like a wilted plant, but with some time they might bring it back to the strange fizzle it was when they started. And they would. Lance swore it right then and there. 

It took longer to clean Keith’s hair than the wound itself. He was half asleep by the time Lance finished. Trying not to wake him, Lance collected the burnt rags and frowned. There was no saving them. His poor shirt would have to suffer some more. 

Making quick work of the last of the inner lining, he had fresh rags soaked with wine. “This might hurt,” he whispered into Keith’s ear as he dozed. 

Lance learned another important lesson about his dragon in that moment: Keith could handle major wounds with a grit of his teeth, but the sting of alcohol on an open cut was just about the end of the world. Keith sat forward and howled, trying to push the rag away. 

“Woah, are you okay?” Lance stared down at the rag like it had betrayed him.

“It  _ hurt _ ,” Keith complained. “What is this stuff, anyway? What kind of weird rash or scar am I going to have on the side of my face from shitty barrel wine?”

Oh, he was just being a baby. And he’d been worried there for a moment. “I don’t know, but you’re going to have a nasty one if I don’t clean it.” Lance huffed and chased after him with the rag. “Hold still.”

Keith growled, soft and low, but he stilled and allowed himself to be manhandled, only hissing once when Lance reapplied the rag. “I can’t - ow - can’t begin to tell you how much I want to go home.” 

“As soon as we get out of this cellar we’re going straight home and to bed. I'm going to drink so much King’s tea and maybe even risk the hive to add honey. It'll be worth it after all this.” Lance switched to a clean rag and dug out grime and dirt as carefully as he could. "What are you going to do? 

“Probably b-” Keith cut himself off abruptly and then squirmed a little. “Don’t laugh.”

“I promise I’m all out of laughs.” 

Keith sighed wistfully. “Bake cinnamon bread. The baker’s shop smelled  _ so  _ good, Master, you have no idea, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. Plus, I’m starving.”

Lance was a liar, but Keith had already called him out for it, so it probably didn’t hurt that he chuckled. “We don’t have cinnamon, where are you going to get that? And I swear if you say my teas I’ll make you sleep outside for a month.”

Keith huffed. “We have a few nutmeg seeds, I thought I’d try to make do. And you did laugh, so maybe I shouldn’t even let you have any.” 

“Oh c’mon. You’re fine. It was just cute. I can’t wait to eat some nutmeg bread.” Lance sat back, with what he had that was as good as he could do to patch up Keith. “You grumbly oven.”

Keith very quickly averted his eyes, and through their bond came the barest trickle of that warm gold feeling. “Ah, right. Am I good, then? Satisfied? We can go back to panicking about being trapped?”

“Mostly, yes, and no.” Lance smiled and tried to catch the thread of honey before it disappeared. It slipped away and it took all his will power not to chase it. “There’s no reason to panic, I mean besides the fact that we’re stuck underground and the door won’t open, but other than that.” 

“That’s an excellent reason to panic! You and I both know there should be no reason I can’t open that door up there unless they, whoever ‘they’ are...I don’t know, bolted it shut? Melded the metal?” Keith’s palm-flame went from orange to blue and back. “I guess I could start digging…”

“Digging?!” Lance grabbed both sides of Keith’s face, careful of his open wound. “You’re not going to dig and you’re not going to panic. We’re fine for now. Actually…” He moved Keith’s face so that they were both staring at the barrels. “There are much better things we could be doing.”

Keith’s expression went flat. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious. What else are we going to do? We wouldn’t want all this fine wine to go to waste. After all, whoever put us here must’ve intended for us to drink it. It’s…” Lance took his time to think of a word. “...their hospitality.”

“How do you know it’s not poison? Or…” Clearly, Keith couldn’t think of another alternative. “I feel as if it’s my job as your familiar to recommend we  _ not  _ get drunk on the wine in the cellar we’ve been sealed into. This just seems like an incredibly bad idea. I’m still not convinced we shouldn’t be panicking.” 

“Well, the wine will help with the convincing. Plus, I’m terribly thirsty after being shoved into a cellar. I have those locked-in-a-cellar thirsts. Can’t you feel it? The way your throat scratches every time you swallow?”

Keith rolled his eyes, but he drew his tail around and transferred the flame to the tip of it then stuck his hands out. “Wash my hands.”

“You need clean hands to drink wine?” Lance asked, but ran water over Keith’s hands in little swirls, swiping off the dirt and wiggling under the claws to clean them. That pulled a quiet little giggle from him that Keith quickly clamped his jaw around. 

Once his hands were satisfactory, he cupped them and dipped into the barrel, holding the dark liquid out to Lance. “Here, then. Enjoy your terrible decisions.” 

“From your hand?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “You have a better idea? Carry mugs in your trousers?”

“I might.” Lance huffed. He  _ could _ use his own hands. He  _ could _ , but he didn’t  _ want to. _ “Fine. Just don’t cut me with those claws.” He cupped his own hands under Keith’s and leaned forward to sip the wine. 

It danced and sparkled on his tongue, bright and sweet. Lance sat back so fast he almost clipped his head on Keith’s chin. “Oh, Goddesses, this is fairy wine.”

Keith’s face scrunched. “That doesn’t sound real.”

Lance pressed Keith’s hands to his own face. “Try it. You’ll see.”

Still frowning skeptically, Keith took a sip and his eyes shot open. “Whoa.”

“I know.” Lance giggled. Shit, it was already hitting him. This was definitely dangerous.

“Here.” He dipped his hands again and held them up for Lance, resting his claws gently against his master’s lower lip. “Your turn.”

A trickle of fairy wine ran down Lance’s chin as he drank. He licked his lips and grazed Keith’s nails with his tongue. They were sweet like the wine. “I haven’t had fairy wine since… I don’t remember her name, but she stole a whole barrel from the castle and snuck it into our rooms. I can’t remember anything about that night after my first couple glasses.”

“That’s you, the wild rebel.” Keith giggled again and drank two more handfuls before doing the same for Lance. “Myyyy Master. Makin’ trouble.”

“I didn’t make trouble!  _ She  _ made trouble. I just-” He waved his hand in the air, taking the time to sip out of Keith’s palms. “Benefited.”

“We should bring some back. It’s the least they can offer us after leaving us down here to pickle.” Keith wrinkled his nose, all red and flushed. “I hate pickles. Shiro pickled  _ everything _ .”

“You don’t like pickles?” Lance tugged Keith’s hands to make them get more wine. “Everyone likes pickles.”

Keith obeyed and brought him three more handfuls before he remembered, vaguely, what they’d been talking about. “What about pickles?” He clearly didn’t care enough to actually hear the answer, because he took a few more sips for himself. 

“What about my pickles?” Lance pouted. “Would you eat those?”

In the light of his tail-flame candle, Keith smirked and leaned forward. “I dunno, Master,” he half-purred. “Do you want me to eat your pickle?”

“Of course I would! I’m going to work hard on our garden. I’d be really sad if you didn’t like it.” 

Keith shook his head and chuckled. “You’re hopeless. C’mere.” He didn’t wait for an answer, pulling Lance into his lap and filling his hands while Lance came to terms with his new position. 

“You’re not a very good chair, but you’re softer than the dirt.” Keith was warm in the freezing cellar and Lance hadn’t realized how cold he was until he'd huddled up to Keith. He settled in with a sigh. “I’m drunk.”

“And bad at compliments. But that’s okay.” He held his hands up against Lance’s lips. “At least now I know you think I’m beautiful, so I’ll settle.”

Lance turned in his Keith-chair and looked up, wine-riddled and serious. “You  _ are _ beautiful.”

Keith bit his lip but held his gaze. “And now you know I think you are, too.”

“I mean…” Lance squirmed. “You’ve never said it before. To me. Like this. So, I didn’t  _ know _ know _.”  _

“Ah,” Keith chuckled. “Okay then. M’gonna tell you again. You’re  _ beautiful _ . Like...like a whole. Whole  _ river _ . Plus the moon.”

“You’re going to get Hoile  _ and _ Lumi coming after me with those words. I don’t think I can handle any angry Goddess above everything else.”

“I’ll fight ‘em,” Keith slurred. “M’a good fighter.”

“You can’t fight one Goddess, let alone  _ two _ . That’s impossible.” Lance laughed, settling back and letting his legs splay out. “But I’ve never had anyone offer to fistfight a Goddess for me, so that's a nice feeling.”

The world spun a bit as Keith dragged him back to lay on the ground, then splayed heavily on top of him with a huff. “Fight later, nap now. I’m a good fighter but I’m an even  _ better  _ blanket.”

Keith was right. He was a  _ fantastic  _ blanket. It only took seconds before Lance drifted off in warm arms, listening to the rumbling snores of his dragon.

~🍄~ 

It was hard to say how much time had passed, but it certainly felt to Lance that he’d just closed his eyes when the door opened. There were shouting voices and his chest felt cool and empty. Keith’s tail disappeared through the square of light shortly before Lance himself was being hauled up by the arms and bound at the wrists.

“I dun’ wanna get up. Keeeith, I wanna go back to bed.” He looked around for his dragon-blanket.

To his left, a burly man in a knit cap was busy looping rope around Keith to tie his wings tight to his body. Keith was watching him do it, but seemed to be only mildly perturbed. “You’re doing it wrong,” Keith informed the man, which got him a hard slap across the mouth. 

“Hey! Don’t hit him! Bite ‘em, Keith.” The man tightened the rope around his wrists and Lance winced. “He’ll bite you, I told him too. You’re all in big trouble.”

To his surprise, Keith was just giggling again, pliantly letting his wrists be bound as well. “Master.” He looked at Lance, eyes shining with amusement. “I think these are our new friends.”

“Quiet!”

The knit-cap man smacked Keith again, which did get a small gurgle of annoyance but little else. 

"You're going to get bit," Lance muttered. 

Knit-cap ignored him. “You will stand trial for the crimes committed against the village of Whitshaw. The Magister is waiting.”

“Tell the Magister his village is stupid.” 

Lance nodded in agreement, but stopped immediately when his head started swimming. 

“Standing trial” in the village of Whitshaw evidently had less to do with determining guilt as it did with deciding what to do with the already-deemed-guilty.

The tiny courthouse was as jammed with people as it could possibly be, all of whom looked downright murderous. Lance had been sat across from the Magister with two guards on either side. Keith was in a cage off to the side, laying docile in the hay. He seemed to be occupied with counting his toes. 

Lance leaned over to wave at Keith and was pulled back by his scruff. They had crammed Lance into a scratchy cloth that passed as a shirt because apparently his bare chest was “too scandalous” for court. 

The Magister was a lean, pinch-faced man with a dramatically angled mustache that made him look more like a catfish than a person. He peered down at Lance from behind a pair of half-moon glasses, pushing them back on his nose to get a better view. 

“State your name for the court,” he ordered. 

"Lance Alexander Fuentes d’Metrella, Lesser Potions Master to the King of Belwald and Sorcerer of the Third Class." Lance rattled off with a grin. 

“I didn’t know your name was Alexander,” Keith piped up from his cage, rolling around on his back with his feet in the air. “I like it.” 

"You never asked. And thanks." Lance scooted on his chair with a squeal, clunk. "Do you have a middle name?" 

Keith tilted his head in the hay to look at Lance. “I don’t think so. You should give me one.”

“ _ State _ the name of your  _ pet _ ,” the Magister interrupted, increasingly annoyed. 

"My  _ familiar, _ " Lance said, glaring as best he could, "Was named Keith, but he was just upgraded to Blanket First Class." 

“I don’t want to be Keith Blanket,” Keith pouted. “Why can’t it be something cool? Like...like-”

“Darkblaze,” Lance finished. “High Magic familiar, Keith Darkblaze.”

Keith’s eyes shone with adoration.

“This creature is bonded to you?” 

Lance ignored the man and bounced in his chair. Laughing, he grinned at Keith. "Keith Darkblaze, Dragon-Blanket and Master Sweeper _._ " 

Keith grinned back. “Let’s not overdo it.”

“ _ Order!” _

The Magister banged his gavel, which was really more of a small farming mallet. “You are here to answer for the following crimes: possession of a dangerous creature, knowingly releasing a dangerous creature into the village, and mass destruction of crops by ice storm and therefore the village’s entire livelihood.”

“We didn’t do any of those things, did we,  _ Darkblaze _ ?” Lance leaned as far as he could, his chair tipping forward. The man behind him grabbed him again, slamming his chair into the floor. 

“Stop moving.” The man pulled tight on Lance’s shirt, choking him.

“I mean we technically did the first two.” Keith rolled to his knees. “Sort of. You didn’t exactly release me. I’m pretty sure I just walked.”

Lance laughed, a whole belly laugh that bubbled up from his stomach and curled his toes. "You? They're not talking about you, they're talking about the spider. And the water hag. And we had  _ nothing  _ to do with either." He tried to sober up but bursts of giggles interrupted him every other word, "I'm sorry something destroyed your crops and hurt your feelings, but we were trying to stop it. Just because we failed doesn't mean you have to treat us like criminals."

“It was most assuredly  _ you _ , Lesser Potions Master, who froze the fields.”

"Nonsense." Lance rolled his eyes. "This is so stupid. Let us go, already. We're sorry about the damage, but you're going overboard." 

"Guilty!" The Magister's dumb mustache twitched as his face grew as red as a tomato. "Guilty!" He pounded his hammer in a flurry that sent the whole room quiet. "You." He pointed at Keith. "Will be burned until  _ dead. _ " 

" _ Ohhh _ , do it. Burn him. That'll teach him a lesson." Lance bounced in his chair so that it clacked in time with his chant. "Burn him, burn him, burn him." 

Keith laughed from his cage, rolling back and forth and joining in with, "Burn me, burn me!” 

The whole thing grew out of control when the room seemed to confusedly join in too. Even the Magister chanted, his eyes bulging. He seemed to want to control it and chanted off time with the crowd. 

"BURN HIM, - urn him, BURN HIM, - urn him, BURN HIM, - urn him," and so on. 

The mallet pounded, but could barely be heard. The Magister's voice screamed above the crowd. "And the sorcerer is condemned to a witch's death by drowning!" 

Lance's eyes shone with mirth. "You're the best Magister in the whole land. What a gem. To the water with me!" he commanded for himself with a smile. 

They took Lance first, one guard on either end. Keith waved with his tail, all smiles. “‘Bye Master! Nice knowing you!”

Lance feigned a solemn face. “It’s been grand. Next time, no water hags.”

The trio that took Keith had to finally opt to throw him in a wheelbarrow, as he would simply go boneless whenever they tried to stand him up. That was how he arrived at his execution sight, contentedly sitting in a wheelbarrow as a crowd of dozens called for his demise. It was snowing overhead, and Keith stuck his tongue out to catch a flake. 

“Who goes first?” he asked conversationally. One of his guards glared down in absolute hatred. 

“You, spawn of All Hells.”

“Oh good.” Keith perked up. “I hate waiting. Especially in the snow.” 

Evidently, the villagers had thought themselves viciously clever in orchestrating their deaths so that the other could witness and be torn asunder by the resulting emotional turmoil. That meant that Lance was being led to the well directly opposite Keith’s stake instead of to the pond outside the village. Lance was already standing next to it, bracketed by guards twice his size, when Keith was rolled up. 

“Look, Master!” he chirped. “I’m crops!”

“You make very good crops, Keith. Best crops of the season. Are you corn? I could really go for some popped corn.” Lance’s teeth chattered, but his smile stayed in place. Goddess, the fairy wine made him feel so good. 

That was apparently the final straw. One of the guards pulled a dirty cloth and stuffed it into Lance’s mouth.

“Mff fmm fuu!” Lance yelled, his face actually angry.

“Hey!” Keith snapped at them, wriggling around in his bindings. “Stop that! He hates getting dirty!”

His guards answered this by hauling him up and dragging him to the stake. They looped several thick, nautical-grade ropes around his chest, waist, and legs, to pin him to the wooden pole and prevent his escape. Keith was still floaty and generally placid, but seeing his Master unceremoniously stuffed like a turkey had made him irritable. 

“From the deepest cold of the furthest hell, to the blinding sands of the first, these demons crawled up from the abyss to terrorize our good people!” the Magister was saying. It took Keith a moment to realize they were referring to him - or rather, dragons in general. “Now is the time we stand up, and seek to protect our borders from this new scourge!”

“Psst,” Keith offered up. “I’m not so sure this crowd knows the word ‘scourge.’”

“Silence!” 

Rolling his eyes, Keith looked to his Master for any indication of when they would be done with this nonsense. Being hogtied and burned alive was really starting to dampen the nice, bubbly warmth from the fairy wine. 

Lance found none of this funny anymore and wanted to go back to their cellar and sleep. Wait. Their cottage. Yeah, that was right. Go back to their cottage to sleep. He pouted as best he could around the gag for Keith to come save him. The well was fine, he wasn’t worried about that, but if this gag didn’t come off yesterday he was going to start filling these villagers’ eyes with mushrooms.

Luckily, his familiar was very well versed in Lance’s mopey facial expressions. Keith gave him a nod and settled back to wait for the Magister to finish his speech and light the fire already. If he broke free too soon, they might just catch up to him, but a good, healthy blaze would keep meddlesome villagers far enough away that he would have no trouble. 

It took an obnoxiously long time. None of them seemed to know a thing about building a fire big enough to roast a dragon. Finally,  _ finally,  _ the flames were roaring up past his face. Keith stretched and flexed and easily snapped his ropes, shifting into his natural form to the satisfying sounds of screaming. A few hard beats of his massive wings fanned the fire and sent him into the air. 

He easily plucked Lance up in his claws, deciding that for the moment, his Master could stand to stay tied up. 

Lance wiggled a rude gesture as best he could with his binds, because  _ fuck this town in particular.  _

Even drunk, Keith easily dodged the volley of arrows that followed their escape. 

It didn’t take long for Keith to fly them home. He only stopped once to untie Lance and let him spit out his gag. The longest part of the trip was the ensuing rant and how much they were going to demand from Brand. 

When Keith did set down on their front porch and shifted back to his human form, the sun was setting behind the trees. 

“It’s so good to be home,” Lance grumbled as he stumbled into the main room. He stared at their tiny copper tub in contempt. He wished they were back at the Magerium where he had full access to the heated bath that was big enough to stretch out in. He pounded a fist against the tense muscles at the crook of his neck. 

“I’ll fill the tub and heat it for you if you’d like.” Keith brushed Lance’s hand away and dug his fingers into his neck, carefully keeping the claws from nicking the skin while still trying to unwind his knots. Still kneading, he leaned over Lance’s shoulder to give him a little smile. “So, am I making you a biiigggg copper bath all full of hot water?” 

Lance was weak. Keith had to be just as tired as he was after that but here he was, taking care of him. “Yes, that sounds nice, even if it’s not that big.” Lance couldn’t help the tiny jab at their sad tub. “Oh! I think I have a little bit of my glowbug juice left, can you add it for me?” 

Keith rolled his eyes, but nodded as he said, “Sure.” 

Together they filled and heated the tub. It was nice not to have to gather water. Now that he was less shy about using Keith’s mana, he didn’t have to worry about running out and wasting it on mundane tasks. In thirty minutes or so, they had the tub itself warmed up and the water just shy of scalding. 

Standing over the water, he popped the cap open on the little glowing jar Lance favored and made a face at it. “How much of this goes in here? Do you want a...a healthy sheen or would you like to be seen in the dark?” 

“Just enough so the water glows.” Lance shook his head and bit down on a yawn. He didn’t bother to hide as he stripped off his clothes. There was no point, Keith had seen him naked too many times to count and their time in the cellar shouldn’t change anything. 

“I can’t believe you soak in bug guts.” Keith wasn’t even looking. He was still frowning at the bottle.

Once the water was a soft glow, Lance stepped in with Keith’s help. He sighed as his muscles melted into the hot water. He closed his eyes as he listened to the fire pop in the quiet of the forest. It was nice, soaking in the tub. It was nice but also selfish. “Keith?” he asked without opening his eyes. 

“Master?” Came the lightly teasing reply. 

“Join me,” Lance said before he lost the nerve. He peeked from the corner of his eye, telling himself his blush was from the heat of the bath. “I know you’re just as if not more sore than I am.” 

There was a short period of silence besides the crackling of the fire, then rustling as Keith stood and quietly undressed. With his clawed hands on the rim of the tub, he looked up at Lance with unusually hesitant gold eyes. “...You don’t mind?” 

Lance shook his head, sinking down to his nose. The side of the basin hid Keith’s body from view, but he closed his eyes anyway, his nerves failing him. 

“Um. Well...thank you.” It wasn’t as if he had to ease in; Keith was hotter inside than the water without, and as anticipated, it warmed in his presence from tepid back to steaming. His wings, however, he was sure to keep hanging over the back so they wouldn’t get wet. Again. “Feeling better?” 

“Yeah,” Lance breathed the word like a sigh, letting out all the day’s tension.

“You know…” Keith said quietly, thoughtfully. He lifted his gaze to Lance and his lashes were heavy. “Being here, in our home, with you...warm and relaxed and safe and with an open bond...Only one thing could make this moment better.” The corner of his lip lifted in a coy little smirk. “Know what it is?”

“Is it tea?” Lance asked, his mind already drifting towards sleep.

Keith shook his head. “Uh-uh.  _ Cinnamon bread. _ ” He gave a heavy sigh and sank into the water. “It really smelled so good, I wish you had been there. I’m never going to be able to stop thinking about it.”

“I’ll find you cinnamon.” Lance snorted and flicked water at him. “If you find me a bigger tub.”

“Ha.” Leaning back, Keith closed his eyes, still smiling. “It’s a deal.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg if you haven't seen the amazing fanart for ch7's garden scene go check out [Lyn Patrick's art](https://twitter.com/GrayRendering/status/1248713090692050945?s=20) right now! and shower it with love  
> Also, I've added it to ch7 so when you read you'll get the beautiful visual right there!
> 
> Snuggles' backstory: The tarantula familiar was named Snuggles, it enjoyed sitting in it's master's lap, and snugging on their neck
> 
> It worked really hard to carry bottles and it's hobbies included catching bugs and leaving them for its Master as a present and chasing its legs:
> 
> Fwump, Sunggles falls, one leg in its mouth and confused why it fell "Master! I caught it but now I'm on the ground!"
> 
> Sail: Are you guys tired of getting thanked yet? because i'm not tired of thanking you, i can't believe the wonderful comments and the follows and kudos and likes and art gifts and ugh, i love you all, okay? sheesh you're breaking me down into soft sail and idk how to handle that T_T we also have two more chapters before the hiatus for book two T_T i really hope you guys come join us over on Pink like Spring or Lemon Boys depending on the flavor of spring you want. Then we'll be all set to jump into book two in summer 
> 
> Autumn: My birthday is on the 19th and y'all, your continued love and support and your amazing theories, headcanons, and comments are the best gift of all time. Thank you so much. It just means so much. I know I say it each chapter but really. Thanks.
> 
> Watch our Twitter for info on our P*treon that we're opening, all contributions go to helping feed cats AND you can get exclusive content! [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure when the next update will be? Follow us on twitter to stay updated about our schedule![Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)

~🍄~ 

9 Years Ago, Mid Summer

The kids had run off an hour ago but Shiro still couldn’t calm his nerves. It was too soon. They should’ve waited until Keith was older before sending him out into something as dangerous as a fair. One misstep and the whole country would know there was a dragon living amongst them.

“Everything is going to be fine, Shiro. Eat your corn and let the children play.” Adam pushed the forgotten cob to Shiro’s face. 

Shiro took a bite but continued searching for a tuft of red or feathers that would indicate Keith was close. “We should’ve gone with my plan and followed them around.”

“I swear if you make this festival into babysitting a bunch of younglings that are old enough to take care of themselves, I’ll cook nothing but parsnips. For a week.”

“You wouldn’t.” Shiro tried to look horrified at Adam’s threat. He hated parsnips but he also knew Adam was all bark and no bite. One pout and he’d crumble. “Fine. We’ll enjoy the festival as if we aren’t the parents that sent a supposedly extinct dragon unprotected into the world.” 

Adam scoffed and wiped a drop of butter from Shiro’s cheek. “I would be much more concerned by the other two. Keith is energetic, but those two are hellions.” A smile spread over Shiro’s face and he stole a quick kiss to Adam’s thumb.

Maybe tonight would be fine. They’d all go home, worn out and happy as they crashed into their beds. Maybe he could even pull Adam into one of the side streets and kiss him senseless like they were still apprentices. Actually, that sounded perfect.

He grabbed Adam’s wrist and leaned close, rubbing his nose up the length of Adam’s neck. Adam’s heartbeat fluttered against his mouth and his breath quickened. Shiro whispered against his skin, “Why don’t we find someplace private for a while?”

“Shiro!” Annalys’ distressed voice came from behind them. 

They jumped apart and even as Shiro turned, it didn’t register what he was looking at. His smile was still plastered on his face, open mouthed as the corn hung in the air.

“Keith!” Adam gasped.

That finally penetrated his stupor. He dropped the corn and ran. 

In Annalys’ arms, Keith hung limply, his glamour flickering in and out. Tears streamed down her face and Oriax was a giant poof ball of feathers behind her. 

“What happened?” Shiro asked, kneeling to take Keith from Annalys’ shaking arms. 

“He,” she hiccuped. “He ran into the mirror maze, just took off, like that - and we followed him, and he’d almost lost his glamour and James was there and he was gonna see Keith, Shiro, and I - I tried to push James -”

At least Shiro understood that she meant with her magic. “Did you hit James, too?” he asked, voice sharp and bordering on angry. If she did, there would be a whole different kind of mess to clean up that he really didn’t have time for. 

She shook her head. “He ran. It - it bounced off the mirror. And hit Keith.” The bright green of her eyes wavered with tears. “I’m so sorry, I was trying to help -”

“We know, little one,” Adam broke in before Shiro could say something he regretted. “You were trying to protect Keith, just like we asked. He’ll be alright. Let’s get him home.”

Oriax wrapped Annalys in his arms as she tried to follow. “We’ll stay here and check on him later,” he said, as much to Annalys as to them.

She looked at him as if he’d deeply betrayed her, but stilled and sullenly nodded to the ground. “Yeah.”

“Thank you Ori.” Shiro stood, clutching Keith to his chest. “Adam, find Varkon.”

“Varkon?" Oriax's moonish eyes narrowed at the name and even Annalys looked up at him in confusion." He’s a Daibazaal loyalist. You can’t trust him.” He spat on the ground. 

“That’s exactly why we can trust him. Go, Adam - be swift.”

Adam nodded. “Yes Master.” He hesitated and pressed a quick kiss to Keith’s still forehead, then disappeared into the crowd. 

~🍄~

Varkon huffed, bending over at the top of the landing. “Why,” he wheezed, “do you live on top of so many stairs.” 

“That is how towers work,” Adam snapped. “Please, we must hurry.” 

“I  _ am _ hurrying; if you’d give me a moment to rest I’d be hurrying even faster.” Varkon dabbed the sweat from his forehead with an already soaked handkerchief. 

Not for the first time, nor probably for the last, Adam wished he was some sort of creature with wings. And greater lifting capacity. “Just a bit further,” he coaxed. “I will fetch you refreshment while you treat Keith.”

"Yes, yes. Very good. Lead the way to the whelp, Arch Familiar." Varkon used Adam to return upright, leaning heavily on him. "In Daibazaal, we physicians were never rushed like this." 

Adam swallowed down the urge to suggest Varkon return to his beloved homeland at once, and hauled him up, step by step. 

Shiro was already waiting, having settled Keith on their sitting room sofa. He was kneeling beside it, holding one of Keith’s hands, looking nearly as pale as Keith. “Varkon! Finally, you've arrived. He was hit with Sound Magic and I'd thought he'd be awake by now, but… "

“Yes, yes, Adam already informed me. You Belwaldians all want to hurry, hurry, hurry.” Varkon set down his bag and rubbed his shoulder. “I’m the great physician of Daibazaal. I once served the king himself.” He turned to the side and whispered, “Well, the servant that tended to the keep outside the castle, who’d once served the crown.”

“That’s lovely, but Keith,” Shiro said, panic lacing his words. He’d forgotten what Varkon was like because every time the man left, Shiro enjoyed immediately forgetting about him. 

Varkon sat heavily on the floor and opened his bag. “Yes, your dragon whelp. He’s gone through much worse than being hit by Sound Magic. I don’t think there was any reason to call on someone as busy as I.” 

“ _ Keith _ ,” Adam reiterated, lips curling back to show his teeth. 

Every time they had to deal with Varkon it always ended up like this. The only reason they put up with him was because he was so deeply Daibazaali. It meant he didn’t care if Keith was a dragon or that Shiro was in love with Adam. Daibaazali wasn't nearly as pious, if only he was a little less Daibazaali about other things.

Chuckling, Varkon settled in front of the couch and began pulling out bundles of fresh vines, flowers still attached to their roots, handfuls of river rocks - all sorts of assorted natural detritus. “I still find it amusing that you named the dragon. Oh, if only Zarkon knew what a mess Belwald was.” 

Shiro chose not to grace that with a response lest he distract Varkon yet again. Instead, he bounced his leg anxiously as Varkon went about the Daibazaali method of pulling mana from natural sources. He grumbled to himself as he siphoned purple, green, and yellow mana, rolling it together in mid-air. Then he pressed the roiling ball of color into Keith’s chest. 

Keith glowed faintly from within. Varkon mumbled to himself and fluttered his fingers, tapping at the air above Keith’s body in different places, testing the pulses of mana in each one. Finally, he lifted his wrist, sucking the swirl of mana out, and released it into the air. 

“Physically,” Varkon concluded, “he’s fine. A little banged up from a fall, but nothing more serious than a fuzzy memory. There isn't much that I can do about that or the mana. It's confused and doesn’t know where to go.” He sat back and brought his hands down, dismissing the last of the green glow from his fingers. Looking up at Shiro and Adam’s concerned faces, Varkon sighed and rubbed at his stubbly beard. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he suffers a little bit of memory loss, and a few fumbled spells. Sleeps a lot. Maybe feels queasy.”

“Can’t you straighten it out? Put his mana back in place?” Shiro clutched Adam’s hand.

Varkon shrugged. “I told you there isn't much I can do. I’ve done the best I can, King's Mage. It's all on the whelp to rest. He’s got plenty of mana to spare so he'll heal fairly well on his own. If you want to coax it along, you can try calling out with your own mana and see if it'll follow.”

“I’ll do it. I’m closer to Fire Magic,” Shiro said without hesitation. “I’ll try to coax him back.”

Varkon groaned as he stood. “Very good. Your little whelp has been quite the patient for me over the years. I do hope the payment is worthy.”

“As always,” Adam intervened smoothly, even as Shiro narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth. A quick glare from his puma made him snap it closed. “Thank you, Varkon. I’ll see you out.”

“Oh, wonderful. It will give me time to catch you up on the king. Did you know his son has been said to have gone into hiding? Disappears for months before returning to court.” Varkon picked up his bags of stones and live plants. “Some say he is wicked, but I say he’s looking for a wife.” Varkon winked. "We all must sew our seed you know." 

“Fascinating.” Adam sent Shiro a look that said ‘you owe me,’ and escorted Varkon out. 

From his place on the sofa, Keith murmured and his eyelids twitched, the space between his brows furrowing. 

Shiro pressed Varkon and the rumors of his homeland out of his mind. He reached out to Keith with his mana, tentative and unsure what kind of state he'd find his ward in. The responding swell was more sensory, nowhere near the connection Shiro had with Adam. It was the equivalent of smelling something on the wind or hearing a distant sound. In the miasma of his own mana, he felt the red poke hesitantly back, like a fish testing the bait at the end of a hook. 

?, it asked. 

With a calming breath, Shiro did his best to draw it out. Fire was one of the more fickle elements and had the tendency to go from roaring blaze to embers in seconds. With Keith, it seemed to always be in a constant state of bonfire, however now, it was like ashes. His mana was indeed scattered and confused. 

If he had to guess, since Varkon was so very unhelpful, Annalys’ magic ruptured the flow. She might have even blocked some by closing a path. Shiro tugged gently, doing his best to reassure it. 

The red mana wormed its way around his black, just as Keith’s little hand had wrapped around Shiro’s finger when he was a baby. There was a brief pulse of bright orange, a  _!!  _ of recognition and happiness, and it allowed Shiro to pull it out of the tangled mess it had become within itself. It was painstaking work, and it was nearly a candlemark before Shiro had all of the threads straightened and running through Keith in open, free-flowing channels. He sat back with a tired sigh, letting his eyes fall closed as Keith scrunched his nose and blinked his open.

“Shiro?” Keith slurred, struggling to wakefulness.

“How do you feel, little egg?” Shiro asked, exhaustion heavy in his voice and on his lids.

“Nng, head hurts.”

“I know.” With effort he didn’t think he had, Shiro opened his eyes and leaned forward to scoop Keith into his arms. He was getting big and didn’t fit in Shiro’s lap anymore. Keith hadn’t let Shiro hold him like this for a year or so now, but hopefully that rebellious part of Keith was too tired to complain. He ran his hands through Keith’s hair, now well past his shoulders. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Mm-mm.” Keith shook his head and then winced, tucking himself against Shiro’s chest. “Where’s Anny? And Ori? And Damdam?”

“Anny and Ori are fine. Adam,” Shiro half called, voice tight. “He wants Damdam.”

Adam was back in an instant with a mug of water and a lemon cake. He set them aside for the moment and sank down next to Shiro, brushing Keith’s hair out of his face so that he could see his eyes when he smiled. “Right here, Salamander.” His voice was soft, but strained. He shared a look with Shiro.  _ Damdam?  _ he mouthed.

Shiro shrugged, just as confused. Keith hadn’t called Adam that since he was seven or eight. “What do you remember, little one?”

“Um.” Keith sat up and reached for the water, which Adam handed him in relief, still petting his hair. Once Keith had a few sips, he seemed a little more alert. “Frogs? We let the frogs out because they seemed sad...no, wait. Anny won the - she won something. Axe throwing or something. That’s it. Why? What happened?”

“You got hit with Anny’s magic. It was an accident, but it knocked you out.” Shiro had to hold himself back from squeezing Keith too tightly. “Do you remember the festival? That’s where you got hit.”

Keith frowned. “Wait. Who is Anny?”

Shiro bit his lip and looked to Adam for guidance. 

Adam’s face was twisted in pain. “Keith…”

“Ugh, you two are no fun to prank.” Keith cracked a grin. “You just look way too sad.”

Relief welled in Shiro, followed by the need to show Keith just what a bad son he’d been. Caught in Shiro’s arms, there was no escape. He bore down on Keith, mercilessly tickling him. “You think that’s funny? I’ll show you funny.”

“Not funny!” Keith gasped, laughing madly. “ _ Not funny! _ ”

“But you’re laughing. Look how funny you think it is.” Once Keith was quite red in the face, Shiro backed off, giving him a kiss on the top of his head. “Don’t scare us like that, okay?”

Red claws made grabby hands at the lemon cake, and Adam obliged, handing it over. Keith took a bite and spoke around his mouthful. “I burned Ori once on accident. I’m not mad. Bet Anny’s got her bloomers all in a bunch over it though. Maybe I can pretend I’m mad and then she’ll have to be extra nice to me.”

“I’m not sure the tickles got through that thick skull of yours.” But Shiro’s grin was wide and unmovable. Keith was okay. His grip tightened and Keith squeaked. “Everyone is worried about you, she’ll already be extra nice.”

Adam shook his head, fighting off a smile of his own. “Perhaps now we can address that language of yours. Who taught you ‘bloomers in a bunch?’”

Keith smiled, fangs full of cake. “Don’t remember...Damdam.” 

With a scoff, Adam flicked the tip of Keith’s nose and stood. “I am making tea. I need tea. We all need tea. And a vacation.”

"No, don't remind me. It's almost time for the new round of apprentices." Shiro let go of Keith to thunk dramatically back on the couch. "All my peaceful silence, gone. Why do they always make me go?" 

Adam flicked Shiro's ear as he passed. "Perk up King's Mage," he said before disappearing into the kitchen. 

“Shiro?” Keith asked, shaking his shoulder a little. “Does this - does this mean I can’t go out anymore?” 

Shiro lifted his head to look at Keith’s dim eyes and tight mouth before letting it fall again. “No, that’s not what it means. This means that you three need to be more responsible when you do. Maybe some stable work will help. All three of you.” He closed his eyes and pulled a little from Adam’s mana, letting the solid strength of it flow over him. “I’ll talk to the stable master tomorrow.”

“How can we be more responsible for an accident?” Keith complained. “Accidents are things you can’t stop!”

“You’ll understand after caring for the horses. It’s about time you learned how to anyway. After all, you’ll have to care for your master’s horse someday.”

Keith was about to complain more, but he seemed to think better of it and huffed sulkily. “Yes, Sir.” 

“And as to your question,” Shiro said, trying for stern, “From what Anny said, it sounded like you very well could have avoided this. She said you saw something and took off running on your own.”

“I did?” Keith wrinkled his nose, thinking hard. 

“I admit I was surprised to hear it. That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

Keith’s lips were pursed in concentration, but he eventually had to shrug and give up. “I sort of remember the running. I saw something. Someone? And chasing. But who would I chase if it wasn’t Anny or Ori?”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “You tell me.”

They were quiet while Keith sifted through his memory and came up empty once more. “I’m sorry, Shiro. I really don’t remember any of it.”

"Don't worry." Shiro ruffled his hair. "You'll remember. The doctor said this might happen. Now that your mana is back in place your memories will soon follow." 

“Buuut if they don’t,” Keith said with a sweet smile, “we can just forget that I have stable duty altogether.”

"My memory is still quite intact. Nice try.”

~🍄~

Summer

The sun hit Lance's eyes and he moaned. Everything was sore and the bath from last night left him thirsty. Ugh, sweating. Lance peeled the covers off and sat up, head swimming. 

They needed to tuck the furs away. Summer was too hot for even a quilt. 

Lance bent over his knees, holding his head. That spider must've hurt him worse than he'd thought. Coughing, he stood and grabbed the wall until the brown cleared from his eyes. There was only one order this month and it was due tomorrow. He'd put it off to go  _ adventuring.  _ Dumb mistake. 

Taking a deep breath, he stood up straight. He wasn't going to let Keith worry about him, not for a bit of exhaustion and dry mouth. 

Padding downstairs, Lance found Keith curled up in the fireplace, snoring. Good. After yesterday, Keith deserved to sleep in. 

Lance's stomach growled. 

There was no way he was going to cook on the stove. Keith had built it for dragon fire and Lance wasn't sure if he could get it to work. 

Well, he could sneak out to the garden and pull a few carrots to snack on until Keith woke up. He shouldn't put off his duties any longer than he already had. 

Collecting a few carrots and the needed herbs, Lance went to work chopping and snacking. The knife blurred now and then, but it was probably eye strain. He had all the herbs ground and mixed by the time Keith stirred. 

There was a series of snorts, shuffling noises, and grunts as Keith roused himself. Lance jumped at a hard  _ thunk _ followed by Keith's soft cursing. 

"Keith?" Lance turned from his potions to see his dragon crawling out of the fireplace and clutching his head. 

Keith hurried over, rubbing the rise of his right horn. “Master - I’m so sorry, why didn’t you wake me? Here, I’ll start tea, go sit down.”

Lance shook his head, ignoring Keith's morning panic. "We should get a bigger fireplace. That one is too small for you." Dropping his knife, he reached up to touch the injured horn. "You knocked it pretty good." 

Keith made a guttural, purring sort of sound at the touch and leaned into it. “Mm.” 

Of all the noises Keith made, Lance had never heard this one. The horn was covered in a soft velvet and Lance enjoyed petting it about as much as Keith seemed to enjoy being pet. 

The purring deepened into a rumbling that vibrated Lance’s hand. Keith nuzzled his head back and forth, rubbing more of his horn along Lance’s palm. Then his eyes flashed open and he hastily took a step back, coughing. “Um - let me. I’ll just. Make breakfast.” Keith backed away towards the fireplace, knocking into Lance’s armchair. “I, uh, can’t believe I slept so late...what time is it?” 

Lance muffled a cough into the crook of his arm as he leaned out the window to check the sun. “Almost noon maybe. There’s no need to rush, I got myself a snack.”

“Of what?” Hastily, Keith filled the kettle over the fireplace and tossed some of their plain black tea inside to boil, then grabbed a knife and started cutting the hard ends off the last loaf of bread he’d made. “You should have woken me.”

“I told you, I’m fine. I ate carrots.” Lance did sit down, if for no other reason than he’d been longing to since he’d woken up. The rush blacked out his vision for a moment and he held onto the table. “I could use some real breakfast though.”

Keith looked from Lance's grip on the table up to his unfocused eyes. “Are you alright? Maybe you should go back to bed. I can probably manage the order on my own by now.”

“No you can’t. I’m not done yet." He waved Keith toward the kitchen." I’ll feel better after breakfast. I'm just a little light headed is all.”

That didn’t seem to satisfy his pushy fussbucket of a dragon at all, but Keith did accept the answer enough to finish cutting and toasting bread, offering him tea, toast, eggs, and fried tomatoes. “All of it,” Keith nagged. “You haven’t eaten since those hand pies yesterday. No wonder you’re dizzy.” 

“That’s right,” Lance said, as if he hadn’t come up with the idea first. “That’s gotta be it. Thanks, Keith.” He nibbled on a tomato and stopped. “You need to eat too. You had even less than I did.”

“I will. Just.” He bit at his lip, cracked and scabbed over on one side. “After.” He sighed and tried to run a hand through his hair, but it was beyond tangled. “Ugh. I want to make sure you’re taken care of first.”

“Nonsense. I have food, I'm sitting down, and my order is almost done. There’s nothing left to take care of.” Lance took a big bite of his tomato for show. “See? Eat,” he commanded. 

Keith sighed again. “You pick the most obnoxious times to give orders,” he complained, but he did stoke the fire in the stove once more to reheat the skillet. 

“Thank you,” Lance said, voice high and playful. It felt so much better to be sitting down and eating. That was, until he touched his egg. Nausea turned his stomach and he spat it out as discreetly as possible. 

The sizzling of the frying pan covered up Keith’s answering mumble.

He switched to the toast and nibbled on the crust. There was no way Keith would let him leave without eating everything so he had to figure out what to do with the egg. “You should also wash your hair. It’s going to take a long time to get all those tangles out.”

“I washed it last night,” Keith complained, sliding in across from Lance and dunking the hard, leftover heels of bread in his egg yolks. “And I can’t imagine what the rough half of my face looks like. If it looks as much like ground meat as it feels, I should probably go somewhere else so I don’t turn your stomach.”

Lance cringed. He was so caught up in himself that he didn’t even - “Wait here.” Lance used the table to push himself up. 

“It can wait!” Keith sounded exasperated, even if his own voice was scratchy with leftover exhaustion. “Would you please just eat your breakfast?”

“No.” Lance willed his legs to stay steady as he made his way towards his workbench. It seemed so far away. “The food isn’t going anywhere and I should’ve treated it last night when we got home.” There wasn’t much left of their stocks, but he did have a simple healing balm. If only they’d remembered to find their stolen bag. 

When he turned around, Keith was right behind him, both arms out as if to catch him. “Oh, yeah, that is bad.” He squinted at the side of Keith’s face. “I’m worried it’s going to scar.” 

“I’d love to know what actually got me, and if I gave as good as I got. Is it a good scar at least?”

“Quite dashing.” Lance wrinkled his nose. “Or it will be when it heals. Here.” He popped open the cap and dipped his fingers in. “This might sting.”

Keith whined. 

“Hush, you big baby.” Still, Lance softened his touch down the jagged wound. “I’m glad we put wine on it, it doesn’t look infected.” 

“Maybe fairy wine is as effective an antiseptic as it is a beverage.” Now and then Keith winced, but he was otherwise pliant. “We need more of that for sure.” 

Lance giggled. “Good luck with that. We just destroyed the village that makes the kingdom's only supply.”

Keith’s smile was small and crooked but his eyes were bright with affection. “Good to hear you laughing.”

This time Lance could practically taste honey from the pulse along their bond. It was faint and mixed with salt, as if he’d licked a drop from his finger, but it was there, on the tip of his tongue. It made Lance pull back and touch his lips, which then tingled from the ointment. He sputtered a little and blushed. It was so hot in here. “I think you’re good to go.” He capped the bottle.

“Excellent. Now eat your fucking breakfast.”

“Mm.” If he spoke, he knew he’d cough. Even now he could feel a tickle threatening him. He clicked his throat to scratch it and bury the cough away.

Keith sighed and shook his head. “I’m not going to force you, but I wish you would. I need to finish up and start working, so I’ll leave you to starve.” 

"Yeah, do that." Lance patted his shoulder on his way to the table and fell hard into the chair. "I'll finish our order before you can say corking." 

“Fine.” Keith swiped his bread and slid Lance’s tea towards him pointedly. “Call me if you need me.”

Lance nodded, sinking further into the chair. 

Keith shoved the bread in his mouth to hold it as he stepped into the summer sun. He’d managed to clear just a little from the canopy of leaves above their cottage, enough to let the garden grow, and the fresh air and warmth felt amazing on his skin. He stretched and rolled his shoulders, grabbing the hoe from its resting place beside the front door. Time to get to work. 

He passed a few satisfying hours in the mindlessness of manual labor, and by later afternoon he was thirsty, sweaty, and ready to sit for a moment. Stepping inside, he wiped his feet on the mat and glanced over towards Lance’s work table, which was untouched. Frowning, he scanned the room. Lance was nowhere to be found. 

Circling the table, Keith sucked in a breath and went cold. Lance was on the floor by the seat where Keith had left him. Unmoving. Terror made his hands shake, and in desperation, he reached across their bond. 

A thin strand of blue reached back. 

It was still present, so at least his master was alive - that relaxed him considerably. He dropped to his knees and rolled Lance over to his back, only to find him unbearably pale and sweating.

“Oh,” he whispered, feeling along Lance’s cheeks and forehead. “Come on. Come on, Master, wake up - hey. Can you hear me?”

"Nn," Lance moaned. "Don' wanna get up." He pushed weakly at Keith's hands. 

“Come on, off the floor.” It was a struggle with the way Lance was squirming, but Keith managed to hoist him up, doing his best not to jostle him too badly. “What happened? You’re freezing.”

"Hot. It's hot." 

“Okay,” he soothed, carrying Lance up the stairs for the second time in what felt like as many weeks. What was wrong with him, Keith berated himself. Why hadn’t he noticed how sick his Master was? Why had he let it get to this point? Lance had seemed exhausted the night before, but certainly not this ill…

Kneeling, he carefully slipped his Master onto the furs and stroked his hair. “I’m going to bring you some water. Okay? I need you to lie still for me.”

Lance curled into the pillow and groaned. "Hurts." Before Keith even removed his hand, Lance was kicking off the covers. 

Hurts - his head? His body? Either way, they needed to get the fever down first before he could worry about anything else. “Don’t move.”

Keith half-ran into the garden, bypassing the vegetables and seeking out Lance’s herb patch. Not everything had grown in entirely, but he was extremely grateful, not for the first and certainly not the last time, that Lance was a potions master with extensive knowledge of herbcraft and therefore had insisted on planting almost immediately once they’d moved in. The white and yellow flowers were simple to identify, blooming humbly between patches of denser, greener herbs. Keith picked enough feverfew to make into a small cup of tea, and rushed inside, heating the kettle himself with his right hand until the water was boiling.

When he climbed the stairs again, Lance was sprawled out, half on the floor. His shirt looked like it had gotten stuck on his head and he’d given up. It bunched up around his neck and over his nose. He lay there, shirttails still in his hands, as he shivered. 

“Oh, Master,” Keith sighed, sinking to the floor and crossing his legs. Setting aside the tea for the moment, Keith helped divest Lance of his shirt and used it to mop off his forehead and chest. Then he guided Lance to sitting and held the tea to his lips. “I need you to drink a little of this, please. Can you do that for me?”

Lance's eyes were strangely bright but unfocused. "Keith?" The cup clicked against his teeth as he turned. 

“Yes. Drink this, please.”

"You're back." Lance tried to push past him. "I slept too long, I need to finish." 

Gently, Keith held him still, holding Lance to his chest. “Shh. I’ll take care of it. You already finished enough. Right now, you need to rest.” He frowned and held his cup to Lance’s lips again. “Come on - open up.”

"It's my job," Lance protested weakly before opening his mouth to drink. As soon as Keith tipped it, Lance grabbed it with both hands and chugged it. He gulped it down without stopping until he'd drained the entire thing. He pulled away, panting. "Thirsty," he said, trying to explain while out of breath. 

“Good - well done. I’ll bring you some cool water in a bit, but that should help your fever. You taught me that.” Keith sat him up and rubbed his back until he caught his breath. “When did you start feeling sick?”

Lance shook his head and it was a mistake. He swooned, grabbing at Keith for balance. "I was fine. I thought if I just laid down…" His eyes drooped and Keith was holding the brunt of his weight. "M'better now." 

Keith had to resist the urge to shake him and squeeze him too tight all at once. “Stupid,” he chastised. “Stupid, stubborn, bull-headed Master. Why do you do this to me?” 

"I don'." Lance pressed closer. "So cold." It was mid-afternoon and sweltering, not to mention Keith was pretty sure he was turning the room into a sauna. There was absolutely no reason for Lance to be cold. 

"Thirsty." 

The pitiful sound of that word broke his heart. He lowered Lance back down and tucked him under the fur. “Okay. I’ll be back with water. Just rest.”

"I shouldn't." But his eyes were already closed and only one hand peeked out to tug at Keith. "I wanna go home." 

“We are home,” Keith soothed. “Our home. And I’m going to the stream where we get the water for our home. Alright?”

"Our home?" Lance shook his head slow, not quite a no, more like he was searching behind closed eyes. "We should build a well." 

“I did, but I still need to build a purifier or we-” Keith cut himself off. “Nevermind. Just lie still.”

"I hope Greeve doesn't-" Lance yawned which sent him into a coughing fit. Swiping at his nose, he curled into a ball. "...yell… at me." 

His chest constricted with worry, but he pushed it down. Water first. 

Without Lance to conjure it, Keith would have to make a trip to the stream to fill their water buckets. He didn’t like the thought of leaving again, but if he could get Lance to sleep, that would probably be enough time. He was feverish, certainly, but it could just be from his exhaustion or a summer cold. That was what he told himself, anyway, while he carried the buckets past the vegetable gardens - no reason to panic. Yet. 

He may have cheated and flown above the treeline in order to shorten the trip, but he was more than willing to risk being seen if it meant getting home quickly. No one in their right mind would be visiting the Deepmist anyway. It was only for people like them, and blind widows, and their storm-summoning sons. It was much quicker work than fighting through the overgrown greenery all the way there and back. It always seemed that, as soon as Keith cut a path through the woods, it would have regrown and doubled by the next time he went. 

When he approached the cottage on his return, his worry thickened. Candles were burning in the window where he'd definitely not lit them before. The only light should've been the fire. Clutching the water close, he opened the door. 

Lance stood over his workbench, bottles half capped and messily filled. He turned to smile at Keith. "Almost done. You can fly these out tomorrow just as scheduled." 

He almost dropped his buckets. “What are you doing?! You’re supposed to be in  _ bed _ .” 

Lance pouted. "I'm finishing the order." 

“You’re running a fever!” Keith felt the licks of flame from between his teeth but he was too worried and worked up to care. “I will tie you to the bedroll if I have to, but you need to lie down! I told you - it’s just bottling left. I’ll take care of it.” It was a low tactic perhaps but… “You taught me yourself, Master. Don’t you trust me?”

"Bottling?" Lance paused to cough. He looked up at Keith with a runny nose and squinted. "Right. I need to teach you bottling. Sit down and I'll get the sealing wax."

That made the worry curl tight and hot in his sternum. “...You can teach me tomorrow. Alright?” He crossed the space between them as if he were approaching a wild animal, placing the buckets by the table. Clearly, he was going to have to change tactics yet again. 

Pulling his handkerchief from the pouch at his belt, he wrapped a gentle hand around the back of Lance’s neck and dabbed at his nose like a child. The extra contact allowed him to reach forward with his mana more subtly, almost like a warmth that emanated from his hand. Through it, he tried to portray his concern, his care, his desperation for Lance to listen. “It’s bedtime, Master. I’m very tired. Will you lay down with me?”

"Oh. Yeah. I can put you to bed," Lance said, voice nasally from being stuffed up. "You're too cute to bottle anyways." 

Keith snorted. “Too cute, huh? I’ll remember that the next time we have a big order to fill. Come on, then. Up we go.”

Lance didn't move; instead, he pressed into Keith and wrapped his arms around his neck. "Goddesses, you're so strong." He hopped a little, trying to get Keith to hold him but it only made him sway, clutching Keith for balance. 

“And you are completely transparent.” Not that Keith didn’t immediately scoop him up. “Better?”

“Mm. Still hurts.” Lance buried his nose into the side of his neck. Even with Lance always running cold comparatively, the tip of his nose warmed Keith’s skin. “You sure you want me to sleep with you?”

“Always,” Keith said before he could stop himself. It probably didn’t matter; Lance wasn’t likely to remember any of this once his fever broke. 

“My dragon is so needy.” Lance swung his legs as his laugh turned into coughing. “Next time I’ll carry you.”

They climbed the stairs yet again, and once Keith had Lance successfully back in his bedroll, he hurried down to return with the bucket, a mug, and a rag. Any longer, and he was afraid Lance would find a way to climb the chimney or something equally ludicrous just to spite him. They settled down into the pile of blankets and furs, and Keith dipped the rag into the bucket to lay along his master’s hot forehead. “There. How does that feel?”

“Wet.” Lance turned glassy eyes on him and reached out to run a finger down his jaw. “It’s not fair.”

Keith smiled down at him. “That water is wet? I’ll have a word with it later on your behalf.”

Actual anger burned behind Lance’s face as if that had personally offended him. “No, that you’re not mine. Whoever summoned such a beautiful familiar is lucky.”

_ Oh.  _

Keith flushed - hard - but stroked a knuckle along Lance’s cheek and softened his gaze. “I do belong to you,” he assured his master. “And I - I’m starting to wonder if it’s in more than one way.”

“You do?” Lance blinked up at him, open mouthed. Then he whispered to himself,  _ “No way, he’s too pretty.” _

Keith was still turning over his minor confession. He hadn’t admitted it out loud, or even put the thought into concrete words just yet, but as soon as he’d said it, Keith’s chest constricted. It was sweet and terrible and frightening and exhilarating, all things he’d wrestled with while trying to fall asleep in the fireplace when he knew Lance was right overhead. How easy it would be to climb out and crawl into bed with him. To hold him again, like they had before. How nice it would be to make that their new normal. How hard it was, knowing that Lance didn’t quite feel the same. Not completely. Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

Keith had to fight that thought down with a swallow. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in the maybe’s. His Master needed him, here and now. Still…

He bent forward and kissed the clammy skin of Lance’s forehead, lingering longer than he would ever dare if Lance were entirely lucid. “You worry me, you know that?”

“Why’s that?” Lance’s hands found the sides of Keith’s face and traveled up into his hair, getting stuck in the tangles he’d yet to brush out. 

Keith turned his face and nuzzled into the heat of Lance’s palm. “You work too hard, you push yourself, you never take care of yourself and you fight me left and right when I try to do it. It’s like you think you deserve it or something, and I hate it. You have no idea how much I hate it.” 

“I do this?” Lance asked, running a finger over the crease in Keith’s brow. He frowned, eyes unfocused. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

The idea of that, that Keith could ever hate him, was unthinkable. Even after their disastrous first meeting, he’d felt something faint through their bond - a thread that indicated  _ this, him, yes.  _ He resoaked the rag and used it to mop the sweat from Lance’s hairline and neck. “I could never, ever hate you.”

“You just said-” Lance looked around the room and licked his lips. He kicked at the covers until his feet were free. “You said it.”

“I did not. I said I hate that you won’t let me take care of you, and that you don’t take care of yourself. But I think you know how I feel.” Keith brought the mug of water to his lips. “I think you felt it. Drink.”

“You’re always bossing me around.” Despite Lance’s complaining, he drank his water just as he was told.

While Lance sipped, Keith leaned against the wall and settled him against his chest so that he could run soothing hands along his arms. “I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I actually studied my own kind’s language. What little we could find of it, anyway.”

“You learned your entire herb primer in a month. You’re very smart.”

“Thank you.” Keith hummed and kissed his hair, inwardly fluttering from the rush that came from that sort of casual intimacy. “There’s a word I learned. I don’t know exactly how to say it properly, obviously, but I remembered it even when I was younger. And I hadn’t thought about it for a long time, until I met you.”

“What’s that?” Lance asked in the middle of a sip. Water dribbled down his chin as he looked up at Keith. 

Keith thumbed it away with a smile. “ _ Ayuravadjek.  _ It means something like ‘the person who, to my heart, is like healing water.’ In other words, a soul-cure. Your most necessary person. Pretty, isn’t it?”

Lance nodded enthusiastically. His face fell and a wrinkle grew between his eyebrows. “Who is it?” he asked, staring down into his mug. 

Gently, Keith coaxed his chin back up so they were looking at each other when he smiled and kissed the tip of Lance’s bright red nose. “I’m starting to think it might be you, water mage.” 

“I’m not a dragon.” Lance’s hot breath crested over Keith’s lips and he could feel Lance’s fever radiating off of him.

“No. But I am. And we’re said to hoard things.” Keith held him tighter, drawing him so close to his chest he could feel Lance’s hot pulse in his own skin. “And I intend to keep you all for myself.”

“Keep me here? But, this isn’t home.” He blinked, pulling away as he searched the room. “Where’s Veronica?”

Keith paused. “Who?”

Lance startled and turned around slowly. “Mama! Mama, there’s a guy in our house!” 

He froze, shocked with the realization that Lance had devolved into hallucinations. This was suddenly so much worse than he’d imagined. Clearly feverfew wasn’t going to be enough. 

“Okay,” he tried to soothe. “It’s alright.”

Lance wobbled, sucking in air, his eyes unseeing. He kept muttering names that Keith didn’t recognize as he kicked to get away. It only lasted for a moment and before Keith could decide what to do, Lance hung limp in his arms, the pupils of his eyes shaking and his jaw snapping shut with a click.

Panic sent him to his feet, Lance cradled in his arms. Keith’s breathing quickened as he glanced around frantically. What in hells did this mean? What was he supposed to do now? They’d have to fly to the tower; no way he could risk Lance’s health declining on his watch. 

“Okay, okay.” Keith didn’t know who he was soothing anymore. “Okay, we’re going to go back and get you some medicine, okay? Let’s um, get you bundled - oh fuck.” 

He watched in horror as Lance’s breath started coming in frosty white puffs. Blue crested over his lips, flecks of sparkling frost blossoming against the skin. The room dropped to freezing. A glass bottle shattered under the sudden temperature shift and Keith nearly jumped out of his scales. 

_ Knock knock _

“Is anyone home?” Shiro’s cheerful voice shouted from downstairs. “Keith?”

Shiro. 

He was hallucinating. He had to be. 

Keith thundered down the stairs, Lance still in his arms - a pale, frostbitten body so still he may as well be a corpse.

There, in the entryway, Shiro and Adam were maneuvering their way inside with a few stacks of boxes. 

“ _ Shiro _ !” Keith called, high and terrified. 

“I know we weren't supposed to be here until next month, but that’s no reason to scream at us.” Shiro turned to Adam as if Adam would know why Keith was freaking out. “That’s why we brought presents so that-” 

“Shiro, Adam.” He was babbling now, carrying Lance over and holding him out in a panic. “He’s - Lance, something’s -!”

They both dropped their boxes. 

“What happened?” Shiro asked in his dad-voice. 

Adam was next to Keith in a moment, pressing his hands against Lance’s face. He pulled his hands back in a hiss. “He’s frozen. He froze me.”

Shrio pressed Adam out of the way and loomed over the group with an air of someone in charge. “You need to tell me what happened. Quickly.”

“He was sick - is sick,” Keith stammered. “He depleted his mana yesterday and all day he’s had a fever and now he’s freezing, actually freezing, Shiro, I, I don’t know what to do.” 

Shiro closed his eyes. It made Keith bounce with impatience. After what felt like forever, he opened them again. "This isn't right. It's like he has mana burn out, but it's being refilled with…" He turned to Adam. "Show Keith." 

“Come here.” Adam’s voice, as always, was calm. Keith obeyed it like he was still a child, which was more or less how he felt with the way helplessness and fear were clenching his insides. Together, they lowered Lance to the rug in front of the fireplace. 

“Your goal is to use your mana to go ‘behind’ your Master’s, the part that’s attacking him, and fill the empty pool with your own.” Adam placed his palm on the ground and pulled up, bringing threads of amber from the earth below the cottage floor. He curled his hand into a fist, and the light surrounded it and darkened into rich brown. “It will likely attack you too, just as our biological selves attack invading bodies. Ignore it, don’t try to fight it off. No matter what happens, it is critical that you reach the pool, and quickly. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Keith replied automatically. “And then he’ll be okay?”

“I believe so,” Adam nodded. “But be swift.”

Keith closed his eyes and the room melted away. As he had done countless times in the last few months, he followed the withered vine of their bond, nudging at the wall of blue that separated him from Lance. Unlike before, the wall simply wobbled, a bubble that kept mana in but wasn’t opposed to Keith coming through. He was so used to being completely blocked. Staring at it in awe, he touched it and it gave. That alone made his gut clench with a happiness so bright and sudden, it made him want to cry.

Gently, coaxingly, he pushed against the barrier and slipped right through. Lance’s mana pool was just as it had been in the cellar, shattered and refracted. Even though he knew it would be, it was still a shock to see how broken it was. Shards and colors drifted past, kaleidoscopic and impossible to hold. It was dizzying and depressing. Keith took a step and the shards spun around, pointing their sharp edges at him in warning. Their jagged tips followed him as he made his way carefully through the fragmented mana. A few quivered as if they were going to strike. The shaking light caused spots of color to dance across the rocky bed, lighting them in a rainbow of colors.

Keith didn’t have time to worry. Adam’s warning rang clear in his head: ‘ignore everything, go straight for the pool.’ His pace quickened until he was running, footsteps echoing against walls he couldn’t see. Keith aimed for the dim blue glow in the distance. Immediately, the shards shot towards him, slicing along his inward self until he was bleeding red mana into the miasma. It ribboned off him, floating up behind him as he ran. He winced but kept moving, pushing, reaching for the blue light growing dimmer all the time. 

By the time he touched its shore, threads of red were oozing all around him. He was like a spider in his own web of mana. Keith knelt by the pool, now closer to a puddle, and bent to look at it. 

Unlike before, the mana was…“hard” was the only word he could think of. The watery blue was replaced by light, reflective white, trapping the blue underneath. Keith reached forward and pressed his palms against it, focusing his own mana and  _ pushing _ . The shards zipped through the air, slicing new strands of leaking mana. They shattered on the ground only to reform moments later and renew their attack. 

It was so hard to concentrate through the pain and the drain of his mana. Every instinct told him to retreat, to heal, to protect himself, but he clenched his teeth and pushed harder. 

Soon, the red began to weaken the white and it melted away in a gradual blur. The more he focused, the more he could see the small pool of blue become visible once more. What was left of the hard white shell splintered and broke away. The liquid blue pushed to the side as it melted into slushy heaps. Taking his chance, Keith channeled from his own reserves into Lance’s pool, filling it instantly with red. 

As soon as he’d begun, he could feel Lance stirring around him. Confused, the shards trembled, suspended, before floating off aimlessly into the ether. With a sigh of relief, Keith started to back out, filling in red as he did. 

By the time he came back to his physical self, Lance was breathing normally - in and out, no frost to be seen. 

Keith slumped in relief. He'd done it. 

Lance moaned and turned over. Shiro placed a firm hand on Keith's shoulder. "There's nothing else you can do. Let him rest by the fire, we have much to talk about."

Keith nodded mutely and mechanically went about filling the kettle and putting it over the fire. Shiro and Adam let him putter, sitting in silence until Keith placed two mugs in front of them and sank down into one of the misshapen wooden stools by their only table. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Keith exhaled, exhausted and treading a line between calm and utter breakdown. “Why are you here? Not that I’m not extremely glad you are.”

"Lance didn't tell you?" Shiro asked with a tilt of his head. 

"We got a letter yesterday and we were already packing for our peace talks in Daibazaal." Adam reached out to hold Keith's hand as if he couldn't handle the distance any longer. 

"It was simple to extend our trip and stop by to drop off supplies before heading to our stuffy meetings. We wanted to. We were hoping to hear from you sooner." 

Keith winced. He had meant to write, or visit, but there had just been so much to do, and then the contracts started...

"It seems like you to focus so single-mindedly on one task.” Adam squeezed his hand. “I am glad Lance had the head on him to invite us." 

He...a letter from Lance? “What did the letter say?”

"Mostly a shopping list, if I'm being honest." Shiro sat back in the only armchair. "But cinnamon was underlined three times so we brought three jars." 

“Well,” Adam corrected, “I actually grabbed an extra on the way out, so there are four of those and one of...Keith? Salamander, what’s wrong?”

Until Adam asked, Keith hadn’t realized his cheeks were damp. He touched them, and they came away wet, and he marveled from somewhere remote that he’d cried more in the last two days than he had in the last ten years of his life. 

“He…” His voice cracked. “Master sent a letter. Last night. Asking you for cinnamon.”

"Yes," Shiro answered evenly, wary of where the conversation was going. "It was spelled, so we thought it was urgent. Is there a reason you needed so much cinnamon? Was it for this?" 

Keith glanced over at Lance, lying small and sickly by the fireplace, and pushed away from the table, circling around to throw himself into their arms. As always, they caught him simultaneously. 

“I was so scared,” he admitted, voice thick and damp. “He would have died. If you hadn’t gotten here, he would have died, and it would have been my fault.”

"No, it wasn't your fault." Shiro brushed the ends of Keith's hair and kissed him between his horns. "All mages should know not to let themselves get so drained. Of course he became ill. I'm just glad we could be here." 

Shiro smelled like parchment dust and Adam smelled like fresh bread and it made Keith feel so small again - small and afraid. He’d been so busy worrying about how to protect his Master from threats from the outside, it had never even occurred to him that the closest brush with death for Lance might come from within. It may not be his fault, but he still felt like a failure. 

“It’s for me,” he said, struggling to swallow the tears and the stone in his throat. “I mentioned yesterday that I wanted to make cinnamon bread so badly. He did it for me.”

"Shh, Keith,” Shiro whispered against his hair. "He’s going to be okay." 

Keith looked up at Shiro, eyes wide. “I can’t lose him.” 

"No one said you were going to lose him." Shiro pressed Keith back to his chest. 

Nosing into Shiro’s travel tunic, Keith took in his comforting scent one more time before sitting back. “I’m so glad you’re both here."

Adam rubbed his back and stood. “Why don’t you show us what you’ve built up here and we’ll make sure your Master has a hot meal when he wakes? Then we can catch up.” He exchanged a glance with Shiro that Keith didn’t miss but was too tired to comment on. 

“Alright,” he agreed, rubbing at his face. “I’m actually pretty proud of it. My workshop is out back, but I haven’t had time to do much, since the garden has taken priority. But...since you’re here, there’s something I would like your opinion on…”

~🍄~ 

They chatted for an hour before Shiro’s face turned grave. Keith knew that was where their casual visit turned into something more serious. The tell-tale crease across Shiro's brow gave it away. 

"I know today has already been hard on you but," Shiro sat back in the armchair with a heavy sigh. “There’s something we think you should know.” 

“Okay…?” Keith asked carefully. 

"Unfortunately Lance's letter wasn't the only reason we've shown up unannounced. His letter was just an easy excuse. We were already planning to visit since there have been reports of Mage Hunters." 

“Mage Hunters? Those are real?” Keith’s nose wrinkled. “I thought that was just to keep acolytes from running off.”

Adam frowned thoughtfully at a knot in the wooden tabletop. “In a way, they are. Since the end of the war, they have been scattered and largely silent. But as you two are alone out here, we thought it best you take precautions.”

“What sort of attacks? On who?”

"There isn't much to worry about, simple attacks on castle supplies, feral familiars, that sort of thing. As long as you're cautious and don't draw attention to yourselves, nothing should happen." 

“Although,” Adam pointed out. “There was an attack on Whitshaw. That is fairly close to this edge of the Deepmist Forest.” 

"The attack on Whitshaw isn't confirmed as Mage Hunters." Shiro clicked his tongue. "It doesn't line up with the other attacks. Unless they recruited an Ice mage." 

Keith stilled. Feral familiars in an attack on Whiteshaw? That certainly would have explained the enormous tarantula mindlessly wrecking the barn. But an attack by an ice mage, evidently serious enough to be notable? Keith didn’t remember anything like that, especially since he’d been taken out by the water hag right before…

Lance. 

Lance was Star Cursed. 

Lance was a water mage. With ice magic. That he apparently couldn’t control. 

Keith’s eyes widened as he stared into his tea while Shiro and Adam bickered about semantics. Had Lance really been responsible for destroying entire fields of crops, just as the Magister had said? Was that why he was so depleted that he’d gotten mana-sick?

But...no. Even before he’d been sick, Keith had seen his mana pool. It was shallow, no matter which element it was linked to. There was no way he had enough to freeze an entire field, let alone  _ attack  _ anyone. And besides, Lance would sooner run than harm anyone needlessly. Fighting a water hag was one thing, but attacking villagers was…

Impossible. Keith sighed, and took a sip of his tea. It was just looters or bandits or whatever else Shiro was assuming. It was physically impossible for Lance, motive or no. 

“Is that why you’re going to Daibazaal?” he asked, interrupting their argument. 

Shiro sat forward and rubbed his temples. “Partly. It’s our annual trip, but they’re going to be more frequent, maybe even every moon because of this.”

“Well, we’re on the way.” Keith offered him a smile. “Does that mean I get to see you each time?”

“As long as my other duties allow me time for travel, I don’t see why not,” Shiro said, perking up. “That would make these long trips more bearable.”

“He’s downplaying his enthusiasm.” Adam smirked at his Master over his tea. “He’s been positively morose since you left.”

“I have not. I’ve been fine.” He turned to Keith and that’s when Keith noticed the dark bags under his eyes and the sag of his mouth. “I’ve been great, Keith. You don’t have to worry.”

Keith, a grown adult, gave him the same pout that always got him his way when he’d been younger. “Now I’m worrying more, since you apparently don’t miss me at all. I’m hurt, Shiro. Gutted.”

Adam’s smirk turned positively devious. “Now, just the other day-” 

The sound of retching interrupted their low chatter. Lance’s voice was raspy, calling out, “Keith?” 

Keith was on his feet, sending his stool back with a loud scrape, and kneeling next to Lance in a heartbeat. He slid an arm under Lance’s back and eased him up enough to cross his legs, lowering Lance’s head back into the cradle of his lap. “Easy, Master. Just rest. I’m right here.”

“What time is it?”

“Evening.” Keith stroked the damp mess of his hair back. Lance had been sweating again, but that was far preferable to the frostbite creeping over his skin earlier. “How do you feel?”

“Awful.” He tried to sit up. “I made a mess.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Keith eased him back down. “You’ve been...very sick. You. You almost.” He could feel the fear welling up again now that he was thinking about it, and fought hard to push it down so as not to worry Lance. The last thing he needed to hear on waking was that he’d been very close to never waking up at all. 

“At least there’s still time to finish the order.” Lance sighed and pressed the palms of his hands to his forehead. “Give me a second and I’ll-”

“ _ No _ .” Keith’s voice was harsh and gravelly, almost threatening, and he could feel Shiro’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t care less. “I finished it hours ago.  _ Please _ just rest.”

“You did?” Lance lifted his hands to blink up at Keith. “Thank you. I guess I was feeling worse than I thought.” He laughed, tired and short, but stopped at Keith’s serious expression. “What’s wrong?”

So much for keeping a complete seal on his emotions. Keith could feel his hands shaking as they continued to stroke Lance’s hair back, just to feel the feverish heat of his forehead. “...You almost died. You were - were freezing to death. From the inside out. I tried everything, every herb you taught me, and I couldn’t…I could feel you dying in my arms.”

Lance tried to remember. He even scrunched his eyebrows to see if that would bring any kind of thread to what had happened from that morning until now. All he could remember was being very tired and thinking the floor looked good enough. Then, nothing. “I don’t remember dying. I feel like that should be something a person remembers.” It was a bad attempt to lighten the mood that fell over Keith.

“Did you hear me?!” Keith barked out before he could stop himself, hating the way the panic bubbled up all over again and his eyes started to sting. “I almost lost you! In a single candlemark! I - you were!”

“-Keith,” Shiro cut in softly.

Keith clamped his jaw shut, inhaling sharply through his teeth, then turned away. 

“I’m sorry.” Lance’s hands that were still hanging in the air balled into fists as they settled on his chest. He flicked his eyes to Shiro. He had no idea Shiro and Adam were even there until now. “Help me upstairs?”

Tense and stiff, Keith scooped him from the floor and held him tight as they climbed the stairs. As he went down on one knee to lower Lance to the furs, he glanced at them and then quickly away. “I need to air these out,” he mumbled.

“You’ve done enough today. We can do it tomorrow. I already taste disgusting, damp furs are nothing.” Lance picked at his nail. “I really am sorry, you know. If I’d thought it was that serious…”

Sighing, Keith flopped down next to him in an exhausted heap. “I’ve never been more terrified. If Shiro and Adam hadn’t gotten here when they did I...you’d be dead. You’d be dead and I’d be feral and there wasn’t a fucking thing I could do to stop it. And I still don’t know what happened.” He drew his knees up and rested his elbows on them, taking a moment to hide his face in his palms so he could breathe and fight down the panic.

Lance groaned as he sat up. His head swayed with the weight of the fever. “Whatever you did worked and I’m not dead and you’re not feral. I’m probably not built for fighting is all. We won't do any more bounties and I’ll stick with potions and everything will be fine.”

Keith glanced up, scowling. “You  _ froze _ . From the inside out. Your whole body was blue and frostbitten. And we both know it has to do with your mana.”

Lance ducked his head. “Nothing like this has ever happened before. Not like this.” Every time he thought about  _ that _ , he’d be plagued with a headache for days. So, he’d learned not to think about it. And right now, his head already pounded. “Please, I’m sorry. I’ll be careful, okay?”

Taking him in critically, Keith ran a hand through the mess of his bangs and sighed. “This conversation isn’t over. But you need to rest.”

“More than rest, I need a new body,” Lance grumbled. He pulled on Keith’s sleeve like a child. “Get me tea? And some of the feverfew? Oh, and mint.” Lance fell back into the bed.

Keith sighed and stood. “I gave you feverfew earlier, so you need to be careful. But the primer said a little bit more should be alright. And when your stomach settles, I need you to eat. Anything else?”

“Fine.” Lance pouted, but a streak of pride ran through him at Keith’s easy recitation of his primer. “If I have to stay in bed, can I at least get my books?”

“I’ll bring your books. Don’t move.”

“Some parchment and a quill, too.”

“ _ After  _ you drink your tea.” He was already to the top of the stairs before he doubled back and knelt to pull Lance into a tight embrace. It pulled a cough from Lance, but he couldn’t move. Lance was squeezing back just as hard. 

“I’m glad everything turned out fine. No matter what,” Lance whispered in Keith’s ear, his familiar’s anxiety leaking into his own voice. “I’ll never leave you. I promise.”

Keith couldn’t help the flex of his claws or the way his wings wrapped them up in their own private world for just a heartbeat longer. “I can’t watch that again. Please,  _ please  _ don’t let it get that bad ever again. Don’t do that to me, Master.”

Lance curled his arms until he could press Keith’s head into his neck. “I promise. I swear.”

Sitting back with a sigh, Keith scrubbed his wrist across his eyes. “I’ll go get your tea.”

“Hey, Keith?” Lance asked from the bed.

Keith paused at the top of the stairs and turned, blinking at him with tired, red-rimmed eyes. “Master?”

“Can you put honey in it?”

“Sure.” Keith couldn’t help but smile.

~🍄~ 

As it happened, Keith did not need to chase down a beehive to fulfill Lance’s requests, because Shiro and Adam, in their infinite wisdom, had packed several jars. In fact, they’d arrived with a whole crate of luxuries Keith hadn’t even realized he’d missed so much. Shiro had shrugged when Keith asked about lugging it all the way through the Deepmist, and smiled. “We’re bringing carts of gifts to Daibazaal, what’s one more? And besides, when your familiar has Earth Magic, carts basically roll themselves.” They had both chuckled at the way Adam preened. 

‘One more’ was actually a humble description, given the way Adam spread things out in front of the fireplace while Lance dozed upstairs. New shirts - or rather, some of Keith’s clothes he’d left behind - fresh parchment and ink, plenty of sugar, tea, soap - all things Keith had taken for granted until they’d been exiled and now felt like a King’s ransom. For the first day after Lance’s brush with death, they visited with Keith and helped out with chores around the house. Once he’d adjusted to a normal body temperature, Lance was essentially comatose the entire time - his body’s way of saying that it’d had just about enough of him pushing it beyond its limits. It was a quiet, restful day that Keith had sorely needed, and when they hugged him goodbye and continued towards Daibazaal, he had to bite down hard on the urge to ask them to stay. 

As if sensing their departure on the second day, Lance woke up. And thus began Keith’s struggle with the urge to hit him with a frying pan so he’d go back the fuck to sleep. 

Keith wouldn’t wish for Lance to be back on death’s door and he wouldn’t want Lance to go back to pushing himself and not relying on him at all, but no one could blame him for his thoughts when Lance was constantly whining. 

If Lance never got sick a day in his life again, it would be too soon. 

“Keith,” the tired and desperate cry floated down the stairs to chip at Keith’s last nerve. 

As there was no one else watching him, elbows-deep in the washing, Keith indulged himself with a roll of his eyes. For what felt like the 80th time that day, he climbed the stairs, wiping his hands dry on his tunic. “Yes, Master.”

“I finished my book. Wasn’t there a new one that Shiro brought?”

“He did,” Keith affirmed. “Did you finish your lunch?”

Lance sneered at the tray on the floor still very obviously full of food. “I finished my tea,” he said instead of answering. “Oh, that reminds me, I have to pee.”

“Well, go right ahead, but I’m not bringing you that book until you eat something.” Keith turned and was stopped by a pathetic little whine. “What?” he snapped. 

“It’s fine.” Lance shrunk back into the bed.

“Oh, for...don’t do that, that’s worse.” Keith bent and scooped him up for about the hundredth time, trying not to jostle him too much. “I’m just going to make a bed for you on the bottom floor.”

Lance perked up. “Then I won’t be alone all day. I could help out, maybe even do some potions. Did any orders come?”

“You absolutely will not. Why are you making this so difficult?” Keith leaned into the front door to push it open, careful to go out sideways so as not to bang Lance against the stone frame - because wouldn’t  _ that  _ just be a shame. “Is it so hard to stay put and do as you’re told? I do it every day, you know.” 

“It’s boring up there and my fever is gone.” Lance swung his legs, happy to be out of the stuffy loft. “Can’t I at least sit in the garden? I won’t help or anything. Just no more loft,  _ please. _ ”

Keith looked down at his wan face and cherry-red nose, eyes pleading and watery, and knew that he may as well accept that he would never be able to stand up to that face. “Fine. You can keep me company while I finish the laundry. But you have to at least eat your soup. Even just your bread. Please.” He did his best to return the plaintive look he was getting from his Master. “For me?”

The grin he received was the most lively Lance had looked since they’d returned from that cursed village. “I swear on Hoile.” He crossed his heart and kissed his fingers. “I’d eat two bowls if it meant sunshine.” 

That just made Keith feel guilty, but it remained true that Lance had not been well enough to get out of bed before. He placed his Master on his feet a short distance from their outhouse and gestured at it. “I’ll come back with lunch. And a blanket. And your book. Is that an acceptable arrangement?”

Lance nodded, but instead of rushing towards the outhouse he reached for Keith’s hand and squeezed it. “I owe you a hundred spice cakes after this.”

As close as they had been in the last several days, for some reason, that casual show of affection made Keith hot all the way to his toes. “It’s not a debt. I want to. Take care of you, I mean.”

He got another squeeze of his hand for that, but when Lance went to reply his face pinched instead. Lance turned on his heel and shuffled to the outhouse. “Sorry, I just really gotta go,” he called out over his shoulder.

Keith blinked after him. Then he gave up and laughed. 

When Lance returned, Keith had set a blanket and his lunch tray next to the stump where he sat, scrubbing clothes up and down against the washboard. He’d had a moment of vertigo when he’d moved the tub outside, looking around at the vegetable garden and the clothesline and the little well. When he was younger, training in combat arts and other dynamic, exciting skills, he’d never pictured himself living a life like this. Quiet. Snug. Peaceful. 

Happy. 

The wonder of it all was never getting bored. There was always work to be done, and he was always happy to do it, because it meant one more day where his Master was fed, safe, and cared for. Did he love laundry? No. It was wet, and Keith hated getting wet. Was he grateful for the chance to sit together in the garden he’d built, that his Master had grown, doing their collective laundry? 

There was nothing more he could ask for. 

Lance poked him with his foot as he slurped his soup. 

Keith glanced up, jarred from his thoughts. “Hm?”

“You like laundry that much?”

He looked down at the sudsy tub of water. “I...don’t mind it? Why?”

Lance hummed. “You’re smiling at it like it’s a lost lover come home.”

“Oh. Heh.” Keith shook his head and went back to scrubbing. “Just thinking, that’s all. Is your soup warm enough?”

“Yeah, it’s nice even if I can’t taste it.” Lance let his legs splay out in front of him as he leaned against the stump to stare up at the treetops. The mist was almost nonexistent today and he could see peeks of blue through the green. “It’s so good to be outside and not have to think up excuses to bother you.”

Keith’s knuckle caught on one of the washboard ribs and he grunted, raising his head to look at Lance sidelong through his bangs. “You mean half of those trips I made were just because you were bored?”

At least Lance had the decency to look shy. “Don’t be upset.” He pouted and Keith decided he was getting too good at using it as a weapon. “I missed you.”

“Oh.” His stomach clenched and his heart did something strange, something that made it feel like he’d missed a breath somewhere. “You didn’t have to come up with excuses. Why didn’t you just ask me to stay?”

Lance shrugged and turned away. Keith had to wait for him to finish another three bites of soup before he got an answer. “I wasn’t sure you would,” he finally said to the grass.

“What?” The shirt he’d been scrubbing sank back into the water as Keith turned to face him fully. “Why not? I was just trying to let you sleep so you could heal.”

The birds chirped in the trees as the wind crisscrossed dappled sunlight over them. A squirrel scratched up a tree and made the branch flop as it jumped. Still, Lance didn’t answer. He wasn’t even eating his soup anymore.

Keith abandoned the laundry and knelt by his blanket, reaching a damp hand, still dotted with soap bubbles, to lift Lance’s face. “Why wouldn’t I stay, Master?”

Lance shook his head to dislodge Keith’s fingers. “It’s nothing. No big reason.” He sighed and put the soup down. “There was a lot to do and staying in bed with me all day wouldn’t have completed them. So I might have acted a little selfish.”

“Of course I would have stayed, had you asked.” Keith reached forward again, turning Lance back relentlessly so they had to make eye contact. “I would do anything for you. You know that.”

“I know. Obviously, I know.” Lance’s laugh was self-deprecating as he gestured to himself. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“Then why,” Keith asked quietly, “after all that, do you still hold me at arm’s length?”

Lance watched a bumblebee behind Keith tumble its way to the flowers. “I know your upbringing was not exactly conventional, but that should be an answer you already know.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about Magerium laws again? I’m not sure that the Deepmist cares. Other than that, I don’t see much of anyone else around.”

“The  _ goddesses _ care, Keith.  _ I  _ care.”

“Are you sure of that? How do you know? Have you asked them?”

“I keep forgetting my own familiar is a nullstar.” Lance refocused on Keith and his eyes were ice, but not from any magic. “Fine, if you don’t respect the goddesses then at least respect me. I really do care. It's who I am, Keith, and you have to accept that. You can’t separate me from my beliefs any more than you can separate me from my own skin and still call me whole.”

Keith sat back, staring at the edge of Lance’s blanket where an earthworm was wriggling its way between clods of dirt. 

On some level, of course he knew that Lance was religious, that he bought into the teachings of the Magerium. He’d just thought...well, after they’d actually shared across the bond, he thought he’d felt something similar to what he’d been feeling: that shy, golden light that licked up his insides whenever Lance smiled or scrunched his nose or tapped his lips with his quill. That maybe that soft glow was enough to plant and overgrow the barren soil left behind by years of following rules that asked Lance to suppress everything he was. 

And within seconds, Lance had yanked that sprout as it had begun to bud. Of course Keith respected him, cared about him, but he’d just made it perfectly clear that there was never going to be more to them than that. 

It was like a mirror shattering inside - so sudden and harsh he could practically hear it. It left him aching, sad and raw. 

Keith sucked in his breath and balled his fists in the dirt, ready to run off somewhere and gather himself. “...Yes, Master.”

Lance gasped, sitting straight up before bending over and clutching his heart. He blinked away tears that were gone as soon as they’d fallen. Keith’s head snapped up and he reached out, stopping just shy of grabbing Lance by the shoulders.

“What happened?” he demanded, alarm shoving his own emotions to the side. “Is it the ice? Are you hurt?”

Lance shook his head, blinking up at Keith with wide eyes. “No, you are.”

Keith frowned and placed the back of his hand against Lance’s cheek to check for fever. “What do you mean? You should go back inside, you’re not well yet.”

The streaks of tears dampened the back of Keith’s hand and it stuck tackily to Lance’s cheek. “That isn’t what I meant.” Lance’s unblinking eyes were still staring at him as he pulled Keith’s hand into his. “That, whatever it was, I didn’t mean that.”

The frown deepened. Lance sounded an awful lot like he had before the ice had started, when he’d been babbling with fever. Keith looked down at their hands and the sick, twisting stab of pain shot through him again, but he ignored it to focus on his Master. “Let’s get you back inside. I’ll make up the bed.”

Lance winced, holding his breath and squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them again, Keith could barely stand the sadness laced behind them. “Shut up about the bed. I told you, it’s you.” He pressed his hand over Keith’s heart. 

Realization made him cold. Keith had gotten so used to never bothering to shield his emotions since Lance never opened their bond. Now that their gates were open, Lance was feeling everything Keith felt with perfect clarity, and likely just as intense, given their proximity. He closed his eyes and his breath stuttered. “...Oh. I’m...I’m sorry. I’ll pull back. And it’s - fine. I’ll be fi-.”

“Shut up.” 

Keith snapped his jaw closed, processing the order with startled eyes. He’d never heard Lance, his gentle, hesitant Master, ever say anything so commanding or blunt. Before he could do anything about it a rush, like that of a summer breeze, stole through him. It twisted and washed over all the dark and hurt places inside him that he’d left foolishly uncovered. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Keith.” And with his words came a current of emotions, complicated and shifting like the tides. “All of me, don’t you get what I’m trying to say? It would be all of me, even the parts you don’t like.”

Frowning, his breath coming quick and shallow, Keith steeled himself. He sent a pulse of gold shimmer along their bond, small and questioning, seeking hesitant threads forward to see if it was met by anything similar. 

What he got back was shy pink petals, the smell of the Magerium gardens filling his nose even as an underlying current of fear and shame tainted it. 

Keith looked down at Lance’s palm against his heart, trying to sift through the colors and flashes of emotion to make sense of it all. “You’re frightened.”

"Of course I am," Lance whispered, "It's forbidden." 

“I don’t want you to be scared. We can stop right now and go back to the way it was, if you need to.”

"Do you only want me if I'm not?" 

Keith shook his head and covered Lance’s hand with his own. A fierce burst of gold ran along the current between them without him even trying. “Even if I wasn’t your Familiar, I would still choose it all. All of it. Of you.”

The shame was still there, but the fear less so. "I don't know what I can give." 

Bringing Lance’s hand up, Keith pressed the lightest, barest hint of a kiss to his prominent knuckles. “So ask me.”

Lance swallowed, pulling at a thread of golden honey for support. "What do you want of me?" 

Keith smiled up at him and gestured towards their cottage with his horns. “This. A life. Serving a Master I care about and who cares about me. Happiness. Can you give me that?”

The caught Lance off guard. Keith could feel the surprise through their bond and he drank it in, reveling in the connection, no matter how fractured or frayed. 

"Yeah. Yes." Lance prodded him, tendrils of confusion. "Are you sure that's all you want?" 

“What more could I want?” Keith raised an eyebrow. 

Relief flooded through the connection and Lance sagged, leaning onto Keith. "That doesn't seem so bad. I'm not sure why-" he shook his head and ended up nuzzling closer. "Doesn't matter. I want all those things too." 

Keith raised a hand to rub his back. “That’s what I was thinking about when I was smiling at the laundry. How I never could have seen this for myself, but how happy I am nonetheless.”

“Happy,” Lance repeated, testing the word for himself. "Would you, if someone else had summoned you, have enjoyed being in high court or going on grand quests?" 

“Well.” Keith thought about it for a moment. “It’s what I pictured, but it wasn’t meant for me. The Old Magic never m-"

"I know, I know. But what  _ if  _ the Old Magic chose someone else. Then what? I know you get bored, I know you're built for much greater things than laundry.”

“Everyone does laundry.”

"That's not the point!" Lance leaned back and poked Keith in the chest. 

“Okay, okay.” Keith sighed. “I don’t know what else you think I need. I spent twenty years in a tower, this is far more exciting. Sure, I sort of enjoy the contracts, but not because of the danger. I just enjoy seeing new things and places and -” He colored a little, rubbing shyly at the back of his neck. “And. You know, specifically doing it with  _ you _ . I have fun when we go out and do stuff together.”

Lance’s hand dropped to his lap and he fiddled with his nails. “I was thinking that if our bond was stronger you could go further. Do greater things out there. As long as it wasn’t contracts, we could try something else. To make this life work for both of us.”

Keith scoffed, leaning back and glaring. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what? I’m not doing anything.” 

“That thing! Where you decide what it is you  _ think  _ I want, and then refuse to listen to me when I actually  _ tell  _ you. It’s annoying as all hells and I’m getting tired of it. I  _ like  _ it here. I am  _ happy  _ here. With  _ you _ .”

“And you can have me, here, but you can also have more!” Lance tisked, but instead of getting upset or leaving, he closed his eyes. A moment later Keith filled with a sense of sincerity. “I want you to want things for yourself. Be selfish. It doesn’t have to be adventuring, but if our bond was stronger you could find more people like Caleb or go hunting for bigger game. It doesn’t matter what.” He opened his eyes and sighed. “Why are you always so difficult?”

“I’m not being difficult!” Keith huffed, sending his bangs flopping to one side. “I’m telling you the truth! I don’t know what I want, but I...I’ll think about it. If something occurs to me, I’ll ask. Okay?”

Lance’s face split into a grin and a surge of proud excitement followed. “Yes. That’s all I ever wanted.”

Keith wrinkled his nose. “For me to get a hobby? You could just say ‘Leave me alone, Keith.’”

He threw his hands in the air. “Difficult,” Lance accused again. “No, you great smoking chimney stack, I want you to be yourself. Do the things you want to do when you want to do them. To, you know, figure out things you enjoy that aren’t about pleasing me.”

From the look on Lance’s face, he could feel the shock and resulting confusion those words stirred in Keith. He knew he’d had a great deal of freedom compared to other familiars but what Lance was asking seemed a bit extreme. Still, there was no mistaking the hopefulness and joy he could feel in their bond and smell on the air. “I…” Keith squirmed and tugged on the mess of his braid. “I can. Um. Try.”

“I’ll take it.” Lance giggled and bumped Keith with his shoulder. “It’s probably the best I’ll get.”

“But may I make a request?”

Lance lit up, like a candle flicking to life inside him. “Always.”

Keith was still pulling on his braid when he looked up, almost shy. “That’s fine here but. Anywhere else...just. Let me be your familiar. Let me do what I was trained to do, what I  _ want  _ to do. I can be myself and your familiar at the same time. They’re not separate people.” At Lance’s rising doubt he added, “Please.”

“Yes, if that’s what you want...” 

“Yes!” Keith smiled. “Yeah. Good. Okay. Great.”

Lance blinked up at him, mouth slightly open. He licked his lips and matched his smile to Keith’s. “You’re happy.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah, of course I am. Hard not to be when you’re handed everything you want.” 

“Yeah.” But Lance’s focus had shifted from the conversation to something internal. “It really was close to breaking. I wonder how long it’ll take to heal?” Lance was tugging at the bond as if he were feeling it for defects, studying it as opposed to trying to use it. “I never really examined it before. How long did it take to get like this?”

Keith’s happiness quieted, like a lid put on a bubbling pot. “It was pretty frail to begin with. It’s been unraveling since the day you Summoned me, one thread at a time. There was a little less every time we went to sleep.”

That got a reaction. Blue eyes focused on him again. “So it damages itself at night…” He hummed to himself. Keith watched pink bloom on his cheeks as it bloomed across the bond. “I want to fix it,” Lance finally said.

Sighing, Keith gave a little shrug. “I don’t know how. I never learned anything about broken or weak bonds. I never thought it would happen to m-” He cut himself off and shook his head. “Nevermind. We’ll figure it out.”

Lance gracefully ignored his comment. “Until we do, I want you to sleep with me instead of the fireplace. If it really does damage itself at night, it might do it less if we’re closer.”

Keith’s brain essentially shut off for a span of several seconds. He stared dumbly at Lance before gathering himself enough to say, “Are...are you sure? I know you get overheated and you say I snore and, and kick, and-”

Lance held up his hand. “And it’s my fault this happened in the first place. It’s not like we haven't slept together before and I’m used to your snoring.” He ducked his head, trying to hide in his own shoulder. “Sometimes it’s hard to sleep without it.”

That certainly made something fluttery happen in the region of Keith’s chest. “I can sleep at the foot of the bed if you get tired of me or too hot. I should air those furs out. And change your bed linens.” He looked to the side. “And finish the laundry. And bake fresh br - oh! I almost forgot.” Smiling, he leaned in close to Lance’s face and tapped the tip of his nose. “Thank you for the cinnamon,  _ ayuravadjek _ .” 

Lance blinked down at his nose, cross-eyed. Keith reveled in watching the blush spread up to the tips of Lance’s ears and down his neck to disappear under the loose shirt. “Yeah,” Lance said, coughing to clear his throat. “You’re welcome. But what does arava- ver- arvidark mean?”

“Nope.” Keith grinned and stood, taking a few steps back towards the cottage. “I told you once. It’s not my fault if you don’t remember.”

“No, you didn’t.” Lance pouted. “Get back here, we haven't even finished the laundry.”

“Sorry,  _ ayuravadjek,  _ can’t hear you, I’m too far away.” Keith laughed at Lance’s distraught noise as he abandoned his poor master to the sunshine and flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Autumn: Sorry this took longer than usual. We've gotten a couple of commissions in the past week that, you know, kind of take priority, but we wanted to make sure you guys got an update. Just one more chapter in Book One after this! Thank you, as always, for the response. Your comments are literally the best part of quarantine
> 
> Sail: So i wanted this keith flashback to happen before keith found the frog, but there was too much *actual plot* to cover, so sorry for the wait on this, but now you know what happened to keith's memory, a combination of time and a bad run in with Anny's magic, hmmmm i wonder about shiro and lance's memories tho.....  
> next week is the last chapter of book 1 i'm... ugh, i'm going to cry, i mean i think book 2 is even better because it's the relationship book instead of the rival book and i'm a sucker for klance, plus our boys finally get their hands dirty in plot and political intrigue AND we get lance's flashbacks so we'll finally get to find out what happened to his mana uggghhhh i'm so sad but also so excited. Thank you everyone!!! i can't believe the kind of response this got and it's because of each and every one of you
> 
> We'll be opening comms in May!!! Keep an eye on our twitter for your chance for your own personal story!  
> [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops we wrote an epilogue for book 1 so there's 1 more tiny bit after this
> 
> [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)
> 
> Comms: [please check out our info](https://linktr.ee/sailunchartedwaters)

~🍄~ 

Summer

“And you packed spare tunics?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And the preserves from Abigail?”

“Every jar.”

“What about extra bottles, in case we-”

“ _ Master _ ,” Keith interrupted. “I’ve packed everything on the checklist, and enough food to last us two extra days. If we run out, I’ll fish for us on the way.” He huffed a cloud of smoke. “I can only carry so much without shifting form.”

Lance chewed on his lip as he eyed their pile of presents and supplies. “Do you think it’s enough? When Nadia was born I brought them somnulium and mage crystal. This time I don’t even have the somnulium.”

“It’s more than enough,” Keith assured him, half to soothe him and half to encourage him out the door. “What is that, anyway? I don’t think it was in the primer.”

“Which one?” Lance asked, but didn’t wait for Keith to answer as he dug through one of his drawers for something,  _ anything _ from the Magerium. “A sleeping balm and a crystal charged by the Summoning Stone.”

“Oh, that’s thoughtful.” Keith watched him dig for a moment. “You could take some of the stones from my old collar? They’re not enchanted but I could set them into something different if I can get access to some metal.” 

Lance considered that. It might work. It could fool his family for a little longer. They probably didn’t know enough about how mage crystals worked in the first place… A thread of sadness, quiet and hidden, flowed like an undercurrent through the bond. Right. As much as Lance didn’t care about the collar, it was something very precious to Keith. He stopped what he was doing. “No. It’s not about being a stone or a precious gem.”

Keith frowned in confusion. “Why not? You didn’t just want something of equal value?”

Shaking his head, Lance sighed and plopped down right where he was. He stared at their packed bags. It was a lot, but most of it was shabby or handmade. Nothing from the King’s market, no trinkets from the Elders, and no mage crystal. “It’s not about the value.” He sighed again and motioned for Keith to come closer.

Obediently, Keith crawled across the floor and sat in front of him. 

“There’s going to be some rules on this trip that I need you to follow to the letter. You are not to speak one word about our exile. You can’t tell them about the trial or our punishments. The only thing my family needs to know is that I’m a Magerium mage and you’re my familiar. They can’t know anything else.” 

“Oh,” Keith said with dawning comprehension. “Understood, Master. We still live in the dorms and work in the tower.” He gave Lance a rueful smile. “Do we even like each other yet?”

Lance sputtered under the coyness of Keith’s smile. Keith’s eyes could see past all his shields and he was tempted to slam down on their connection. With all of his effort, he kept it open. “I never  _ not _ liked you. I just didn’t understand you yet.” 

“Oh?” Keith must have sensed what he was feeling, because his smile turned into a toothy grin and his tail began to slowly wag. “And what have you learned?”

“I’ve  _ learned,” _ Lance said very carefully and slowly, “that we own nothing that can make me pass for still living in the castle.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Well - what if I carved the sigil in the metal, would that suffice?”

“No, we’re not using your collar.” Deflated, Lance used his knee to stand. “I’ll just have to go without.”

Keith stood and crossed his arms firmly. “I have a collar.” He pointed to the chunky metal around his neck.

Lance stepped closer and touched the rough metal around Keith’s neck. Slipping his finger under it, he frowned at the rough texture. He wished Shiro had insisted on something a little kinder. “If it were my choice, you wouldn’t have any. Collars are for animals and you’re so much more than the others. You’re-” The words stuck in Lance’s throat and he cleared it, taking a step back. “We could save up, get it repaired, find someone to snap this one off.”

“This one,” he pointed to the plain iron band, “I earned serving you. I wouldn’t be opposed to smoothing it out so it stops chafing, but I’m never putting on another one.”

The conviction on Keith’s voice left Lance dazed. He’d never thought of that collar in that way, only as a nuisance he’d have to bind when it chafed his familiar. He turned away as he nodded. “Hey, smokestack.”

Keith paused on his way to his box of personal items, looking over his shoulder. “Master?”

“Thank you.”

There was a brief pulse of honeycomb gold in their bond when Keith smiled and nodded. 

~🍄~ 

They were over-packed and ready to leave by the time the sun was high in the sky. Keith had managed to convince Lance to abandon two whole bags and Lance looked at them longingly while Keith locked up. Lance had already set his wards but apparently they weren’t nearly as powerful as Keith liked them. To be extra certain, he rigged up the perimeter traps he’d disabled a week after they settled in. 

Lance hefted his bag over his shoulders, heading for the path. The campsite was a good league into the forest and Lance was already regretting his decision to pack so much only a few steps in. 

He’d made it a few feet in before Keith yanked him back gently by the handle of his bag. “Off,” he commanded. “I can take this one too.”

“I should carry something,” Lance said, gripping the straps.

Just to make his point extra clear, Keith lifted him up by the handle so he was dangling a few inches off the ground. “How about I trade you for a lighter bag?”

Lance hung from the bag, feet trying to walk in the air. “That’s cheating.”

Keith shrugged. “I’m sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you over the sound of your own stubbornness.” 

They ribbed each other and idly chatted for the next hour of hiking, but then the Deepmist grew thick along its Southern border. They were preoccupied, Keith with cutting a path for them and Lance with being miserable in the humidity. By the time they broke through the tree line and were greeted with a wide-open field, the fresh gust of evening air was the most amazing thing either of them had experienced. 

Keith set up Lance’s tent and started gathering firewood so that they would still have the protection of a good blaze without him having to keep it going with his mana. They had been to this field once before when they needed supplies, since there was a small village about two miles beyond the field. It was the perfect place to camp with the cover of the Deepmist at their backs and a lake a short walk to the east. 

He built the fire up so Lance could keep warm, then stood and stretched his arms and wings. “I ought to see if I can catch a few fish while we have the chance, then I’ll get started on the jewelry. Any idea what you’d like?”

“Pike, maybe,” Lance mused. “Catfish, if not.”

Keith raised an amused eyebrow. “Well, I was talking about the medallion design, but I’ll see what I can do.”

He left Lance muttering to his knapsack, something about dragons and their increasing sass. The pond was quiet and calm, and he waded in to the waist. It took half a candlemark or so, but he managed to catch three big catfish and took the time to rinse the sweat from his body and hair before returning with the fish over his shoulder. While he’d been waiting for the fish to bite at his tail, Keith had put some thought into the design he’d choose, and he’d settled on something that would probably do. 

He was going to run it by Lance when he returned, but his Master was dozing over a book. Keith smiled fondly and settled a ways away from the fire to gut and filet the fish. He had them skewered and roasting before Lance stirred. 

Lance started at the snap of the fire and mumbled something incoherent that sounded suspiciously like a potion ingredient list. 

“Keith, you’re back.”

“I am.” Keith pulled the wet fall of his hair over his shoulder and wrung it out, running his hands down it over and over to steam it dry. “I was thinking I would make a simple circle for your sister in law, by the way. Magerium crest in the middle and the ruby in the middle of the crest. Flowers on the back. Will that do?”

“More than.” Lance’s eyes watched his movements, the blue of them shining in the firelight. 

Keith looked up from the flame and smiled at him sidelong, his face cast orange in the fire’s glow. He reached behind to grab his own bag and fished around until he pulled out a piece of cloth. Unwrapping it revealed the broken pieces of his collar, neatly severed in half as it had been since the night of the ball. As Keith looked down at it, the bond buzzed with a mix of resignation and a snap of sadness, brief as the sting of a thorn. 

“Wait!”

Keith looked up in alarm. “What? What’s wrong?”

Even in the dim firelight, Keith could see Lance's blush. "You worked really hard on that, right? You chose these all yourself. You should save a piece. The ruby, at least. If you don’t want it…” He paused, hesitating. “May I have it?” 

Clearly Keith had not been expecting that question whatsoever. It took him a few seconds to process before he said, “Of course - but why? I thought we were giving it to your family.”

"Because I don't want to forget. The struggles we've been through to get to this point, the mistakes I made, the damage I've done, I need to remember them. I need to remember the Glarionweed that you left on my table, and the look on James' face at the ball, and how you helped me save the rabbit in the garden. The good and the bad. All of it."

Their bond rippled with a strange new color. It was the gold that meant ‘Keith’ but was laced with something else, something chromatic that shifted whenever Lance thought he had it pinned. It came with the smell of flowers and King’s tea and whispers of  _ oh  _ and  _ he really  _ and  _ it will be alright.  _

“...Yeah,” Keith said, and his voice cracked enough that he had to clear it and try again. “Yes. Take it.”

It was still unusually warm from Keith’s hand when he passed it over, a perfectly faceted cut the size of a cat’s eye. The outer edges were a bright, sweet-cherry red but the middle was dark, closer to blood or wine.

Lance took it and cradled it with the palms of his hands. "I'll take good care of it." 

Keith smiled a little wistfully, but he felt content through the bond. “I know you will.”

It took him the better part of a candlemark to craft the medallion. While he worked, Lance held out a fish for him to munch on before taking a bite for himself. Once he’d reached the point where he was using his claw to carve out vines on the back, he held it up for Lance’s inspection. “Think you can douse this and save me a trip to the lake?” 

Lance's face was shiny with grease and his fingers glistened with oil. He leaned as close as he dared to the glowing metal. "It's beautiful. I thought you said you weren't good at this." With a flick of his wrist, it was covered in a bubble of water and steaming away. 

“As long as you’re happy with it.” Keith sat back and wiped his forehead, yawning wide. “I forgot how tiring that is.”

"Why don't you sleep? I'll clean up." 

“Mm.” Keith glanced up at the sky. “I guess I should try, if you want to fly at midnight.”

Lance smiled and nodded. "Yeah, at least try. It's still a long way ‘til home." 

Nodding around another yawn, Keith settled the bubble holding the medallion into the grass, careful not to break it. He stood and stretched his wings out so far that they trembled a little, then dropped to all fours by the fire, circling twice before curling up and wrapping his tail around himself. 

Lance chewed on his thoughts as he watched Keith. They'd talked about it, but if Keith didn't want to tonight that would make sense. They'd been sleeping in the same bed every night and the bond wasn't healing like Lance had hoped. Maybe Keith had given up and wanted his space for once. 

"Sleeping out here?" Lance finally asked, trying to sound casual. He was pretty sure he hid his disappointment well. 

Keith raised his head from the tight circle he’d made of himself. “Oh, I...thought you wouldn’t want to. Outside of our house. Because...well, you know.” 

"If you want to, in the tent, that's fine." 

“Do you want me in there?”

"Only if you want." 

“...Okay.” Awkwardly, Keith unwound himself and shuffled over to the tent, crawling between its flaps and going quiet for about a minute before he poked his head back out. “Are you sure you don’t want me to clean up first?”

"Good  _ night _ ," Lance ordered over his shoulder, not turning around.  _ Dragons. _

Keith grumbled back into their tent and Lance breathed a sigh of relief. He’d really rather not face any of that awkwardness that sprouted between them now and then even after all this time. He wished things were different by now, but he had a sinking feeling it might never be smooth for them. 

Lance shook it off and concentrated on cleaning up. He took the fish bones and buried them, then he created a little moat around the fire and added more logs to hopefully last the night. 

He was about to put away the jewelry Keith had made, cooled now by his water, when he realized he was smiling. Not just smiling, grinning. The sense of happiness bubbled up inside him until he felt like giggling. It was...a little absurd. There was nothing particularly special about the medallion. It was pretty, sure, but not enough to-

Along their bond, he received a new sort of emotion. It was gold, but instead of the lava-like molten gold Keith usually projected, this was buzzing like little electric sparks. 

Lance dropped the medallion as goosebumps ran up his arms. It took a second longer for him to realize these were Keith's emotions he was experiencing. 

He caught a few brief flashes of images, one right after the other, fast and nonsensical - the two of them in front of the fire, Keith resting on a table in their old tower while he watched Lance work with a silly smile, then walking hand in hand through a garden he’d never seen before. 

Was…Keith dreaming? Lance actually giggled. Oh, that was cute. And he was dreaming about Lance. It was such a soft and warm dream that Lance leaned into it, let himself sink into the dream too while he walked back to the tent. Lance would wager two silver that Keith was flicking his tail and kicking as he dreamed. 

Pushing back the flap, he realized he’d been more than correct. Not only was Keith tail-flicking and occasionally leg-kicking, his face twitched now and then to show off one of his sharp canine teeth. 

The images came again. Now it was the pond where Keith had released the frogs, but in this dream, he came out from behind the tree and handed one to Lance himself - a big, fat toad that croaked while Keith grinned at him with dirt smeared on his nose and his front teeth missing. ‘ _ Hi,’  _ dream-Keith said. ‘ _ Don’t cry. I’m right here.’  _

"I'm right here," Lance echoed as he slipped into the bedroll. Propped up on his elbow, Lance watched Keith's sleeping face. "Dragon dreams are cute," he whispered. He sent that feeling through the bond to see if it would affect the dream. 

The image shimmered and it was still them, still that same pond, but they were older. Present-day, from the look of Keith’s healing scar. The pond was different, softer and surrounded by blooming willows. Pink petals drifted across the surface and caught in their hair. Keith smiled and pulled Lance close by his wrists. ‘ _ Not close enough,’  _ he dream-whispered, then leaned in and caught Lance’s lips with his own. 

Lance physically scrambled away, hand clapping over his mouth. Keith's eyebrows pinched, but he didn't wake. Lance's heart raced and he wasn't sure if it was him or Keith anymore. There was no escape from watching without slamming down on the bond and he'd promised, he'd  _ promised.  _

‘ _ Are you scared?’  _ Dream-Keith asked him, cupping his face and guiding it up, kissing the corner of his mouth. ‘ _ It’s just me. Just us. You know I’ll always take care of you _ .’ Then they were kissing again, and dream-Lance even threw his arms around Keith’s neck, stroking one of his horns until Keith broke the kiss to moan against Lance’s mouth.  _ ‘Careful, love - you know how sensitive I am there.’ _

That caught Lance’s attention like a moth caught in a flame. His head whipped up and focused on Keith's horns. He'd only truly touched them once and Keith had practically melted before skipping away. Lance hadn't thought about it at all. 

_ You know how sensitive I am there,  _ Lance repeated in his head. "I don't." 

His hand was reaching out before he could think about it. The velvet-covered horns beckoned him. At the same time as his dream-self, he pricked his finger against the tip. 

Keith  _ groaned,  _ both in his dream and out loud. In the dream, he crashed their lips together and licked into Lance’s mouth. ‘ _ Tease _ ,’ he growled as his physical body squirmed on the bedroll. 

Lance pulled his hand back like he'd been burned. Keith had told him that all he wanted was the life they had in their cottage. As long as they were together it was enough, he'd said.  _ He'd said.  _ This was so much more. This was… 

Just a dream. 

It wasn't Keith's fault what he dreamed about. And Lance was the one intruding on him. He squirmed as he realized that the dream was... _ affecting _ him, as well. 

Keith must have sensed his distress, because his eyebrows pinched together and the dream scene wavered. Next to him, Keith reached out, as if trying to keep Lance close. His cheeks were flushed and his lips parted on a gasp, followed by a high, breathy moan of, “Ah,  _ Lance _ !” and that was all Lance could take. 

The sound of Keith moaning his name - not his title, but his  _ name  _ \- made him lightheaded and confused. He scrambled out of the tent backward and half-panicking.  _ It’s just a dream, just a dream, just a dream, _ Lance repeated to himself. 

It wasn’t like Lance hadn’t had  _ those  _ dreams before. No one could control who they were about. Stars, Lance had dreamed about Elder Sanders once and to this day had chalked it up to hormones. “Dreams are dreams,” he said aloud to the campfire. “They don’t mean anything.” That didn’t help the dull ache he was fighting down, but it did help calm his racing brain. 

Keith made a strangled sort of whimpering noise, but otherwise, the tent remained quiet.

He strode over to the fire, determined to wait out midnight, trying to erase what he’d seen. Keith didn’t deserve his privacy invaded like that and Lance wasn’t going to make it awkward. When Keith woke, Lance would be his normal self and he certainly wouldn’t be repeating the sound of Keith moaning his name over and over. Groaning, he ignored the heat in his face and his pants and sat determinedly by the fire. 

Out here the bond was weaker and the images were gone. All that was left were the emotions pulsing through him: yearning, aching, fulfillment, adoration, warmth, longing. Pulse after pulse after pulse. 

It was the slowest midnight in the history of the world. Under the eyes of the stars and cover of the trees, Lance clenched his fists and rode out Keith’s dream as best he could. He repeated the Creed of the Nine and recited the Annals of the Embrace until the burning inside him subsided and the pulses of emotion pittered out. 

Still, Lance couldn’t bring himself to reenter the tent. His fists relaxed as his eyes grew heavy. He shook his head to stay awake. Despite everything, he knew Keith would be hurt if he realized Lance hadn’t slept in the tent. So he slapped his cheeks and stood up to make some semblance of a breakfast for Keith’s flight.

Keith roused shortly after midnight, always able to rely on his internal clock, whether he liked it or not. He came out of the tent yawning and rubbing his eyes, dropping down next to the fire to wake up. 

“You must not have slept much,” he commented around another long yawn. “I’m surprised I was able to fall asleep.”

“I didn’t want you to be hungry.” It wasn’t a lie. Lance set a slice of bread with hard cheese and some strips of salted meat down. Thankfully, Lance had found a few mushrooms nearby and was able to roast them before Keith woke. They outlined the rations like a starburst of fungi. 

Keith smiled up at him, sleepy and pleased, the syrupy gold back to replace the sparks in their bond. “Thank you, Master. You didn’t have to do that.”

Lance smiled. In the firelight and with Keith awake, it wasn’t hard to fall back into their usual routine. “I get to sleep the whole way. It’s the least I could do. I’ll pack back up while you eat.” His eyes caught on Keith’s horns and the memory of Keith’s moan interrupted his ease. Lance shook his head to be free of the cursed night, turning to their bags to keep his hands busy. “Did you sleep well?”

“Um.” Keith considered the question around a mouthful of mushroom. “Restless, I think. I don’t really remember. Must not have been a very deep sleep. What about you?” 

“It must be because we’re camping!” Lance said, half-realization, half excitement. “That makes so much more sense. It’s hard to sleep without your normal bed, right? Remember when we first got to the cottage? We could barely sleep the night.”

“Uh.” Keith blinked at him. “Yes? I suppose? Why are you so happy about it?”

“It’s just a relief. Everything makes a lot more sense now.” And it did. He’d had all sorts of strange dreams when they first moved to the cottage and back when he’d moved from home. 

“Alright.” Keith’s slow tone made it clear he thought his Master was off his rocker for that one, but he ate the rest of his breakfast-dinner in sleepy silence.

Once they had everything packed, Keith knelt on the ground and shifted to his primal form. It was still strange to witness, given how rarely he spent time as an actual dragon, and just as intimidating as the first time Lance had seen him. Unlike the first time, when Keith swiveled his long neck around to look at Lance, his gold-slitted eyes were kind. 

“Strap yourself in well. I don’t want to nosedive to catch you if you fall off in your sleep.”

Lance hefted himself up and strapped himself to the saddle, praying to Hoile that he'd done it correctly. 

“Well, sweet dreams,” Keith said cheerfully. No matter the late hour, the opportunity to truly fly always put him in a good mood. 

Lance frowned at the back of Keith’s neck. “Don’t drop me.”

“No promises.”

“ _ KEITH _ !” But the sound of his cry was lost in the rush of air as Keith took off running and flapping his wings, lifting up into the star-strewn summer night. 

~🍄~

Keith only stopped to rest twice on their journey, and both times, Lance barely blinked into consciousness before nodding back off. He spent most of it pressed against the divot between Keith’s shoulder blades, lulled by their steady motion as he beat his wings now and then to catch a high thermal. He would have been chilly, high up as they were with the night wind whistling past him, but between a blanket on his back and Keith’s natural warmth, it was actually a relatively comfortable flight. 

Keith touched down in the grey-violet of very early dawn in a clearing of sparse grass that was dusted with sand. Even this far back from the village, the air was briny and damp from the sea, and Keith stretched his neck all the way up to sniff it before curling around to nudge Lance awake with his snout. 

“Wake up, sleepyhead - you’re home.”

Lance grumbled and turned to the other side.

Keith nosed at him again, snuffling smoke in his face.

“Fine, fine. I’m up, I’m up.” Lance pried his eyes open and blinked, unseeing, at Keith. His hair was windswept and wild and an indented pattern of Keith’s scales was outlined on his cheek. Keith chuckled at the sight and gave it a fond lick.

Lance huffed, rubbing it off on his shoulder. Then his eyes snapped open, realize where they were.  _ “Hurry,”  _ Lance said, bouncing slightly as he skipped forward.

“You fly all night and see if you want to hurry,” Keith grumbled, but he was clearly trying not to smile. 

With how eager Lance was to finally go home, they were practically jogging and barely stopped for Keith to look at the ocean more than a glance. Then they were clutching their bags and panting as they climbed the hill that pointed the way to the hidden beach town of Metrella. 

Keith smelled it before he could see it. The road kept up at a slight but steady incline, taking them above sea level. The pounded dirt of the main road split to the east and gradually became more sand than packed mud. The trees thinned and coiled away from the approaching shoreline until all that was left was sand. That was when Keith caught a scent on the wind that made him pause and turn his head. 

“Is that…?”

"Home," Lance sighed the word with more longing and love than Keith had ever heard.

Smiling softly, Keith readjusted their bags and picked up the pace. 

In another quarter-candlemark they reached the first shack of the little seaside village. They came closer and closer together, until they were winding up streets where the houses were nearly on top of each other, weather-worn and bleached by the sun. Finally, set back a ways from the main road, they reached the small, sloping home with bed linens flapping on the laundry line and smoke curling from the chimney. 

Lance dropped everything and ran. 

"Ma! Mama!" He called before anyone other than Keith would be able to hear him. "Abuelita!" 

A woman around Lance's age peeked her brown head out and yelled something behind her before running to meet Lance halfway. They collided into each other, slamming into a hug. 

"Veronica!" Lance laughed as she picked her little brother up and spun him in a circle. Placing him down, she cupped his face with both hands and pulled the top of his head in to kiss it. 

"They aren't feeding you at that mage academy,” she tutted. “You weigh less than a bird." 

"Do not. You just have burly man arms." That earned him a punch. "Ow. Not disproving my point that way." 

"Tio Lance!" 

They both stopped as they were tackled by a short blur of a child. "Silvio, you got big." Lance grunted at the weight against his stomach. Silvio tightened his hug. "And strong," Lance's words were squeezed out of him. "How come everyone in this family has bulging muscles except me?” 

Veronica punched him again as Silvio stepped back to flex. "I've been working on the boat. I can tie almost all the knots now." 

Lance ruffled his hair. "You'll have to teach me, I think I've forgotten all of them." 

Silvio leaned to the side and wrinkled his face up. “Who’s that?”

Lance turned to see Keith awkwardly standing amidst their belongings by the stone fence, his glamour fully on and looking woefully lost.

"He's my familiar. Do you remember when I wrote about Keith?” At Silvio’s nod, Lance nudged him forward. “Why don't you go say hi and help him inside?" Lance silently apologized to Keith and then took it back. He wasn't really sorry for sending his nephew after him. 

"Hi Keith!" Silvio yelled from right where he was standing and waved. Lance rubbed his ear, cringing. Boy had some lungs on him. 

"Talk to him like a person, don't scream at him." Lance kicked his butt with the side of his foot. "Go." 

Silvio laughed and ran away from Lance's kicking as he waved down Keith. "Hey!" 

Keith flinched away as he saw Silvio running, but to his credit, didn’t move when Silvio launched at him and squeezed him around the middle. “Oh. Um. Hello.”

“Hi.” Silvio smiled up at him. “I’m Silvio and that’s my Uncle Lance, and I’m gonna take you inside.”

“Uh.” Keith looked from him up to Lance and back down. “Alright.” Keith bent to lift all of their belongings again and followed Silvio down the little path to the house. 

“I can set up the tent somewhere near the yard if that’s alright with your family, Master,” he said as Silvio tugged him past. Veronica was busy eyeing him with definite interest.

"Is my room-" Lance didn’t even get to finish his question.

"Still there. Mama refused to change it," Veronica said quickly, almost miffed. 

"We can stay there, then. No need for the tent." 

“Oh. Um. Okay. I’ll just put it-” Keith began, but Silvio dragged him forward and around to the back of the house.

“So,” Veronica began conversationally. “Keith’s a dragon. A dragon named ‘Keith.’”

"I didn't get to name him. He came with that name. You know I was going to name my Familiar Hurbert." Lance pouted. "Don't you read my letters?" 

“I do,” she agreed easily. “He’s just...not what I imagined a dragon to look like. That’s all.” She ruffled his hair into spiky disarray. “Come on. Mama has been going out of her mind waiting for you to get here. Let’s go put her out of her misery.” 

"Please tell me she made paella." 

Lance passed under the bouquet of seagrass that was bound above the door to ward off the ghosts of shipwrecked sailors. His father must still be at sea since a bowl of sweet cream was sitting on the porch. It looked like some water sprites had already licked some up. He sent a silent prayer up to Lumi that his father would have calm oceans. 

Inside was the large sitting room that made up most of the house. A hearth covered with tokens to Lumi and her waters were crammed on top to make room for newer tokens of Hoile. His mother had added them after his awakening, though he wasn't sure if it was to protect or to ward. 

It smelled like home; fish and fire and his grandmother's baking. Veronica kept walking but Lance stopped in the middle and closed his eyes. Once a year since he was young, that was all the time he’d spent here. 

The constant breeze that fluttered the wind chimes brushed across his face and the hearth crackled merrily. He could hear his family in the kitchen and his name being repeated, but he ignored it. If he could stop time, if that was a magic that was possible, he'd live in this moment forever surrounded by things so familiar that they made up the core of his soul. 

"Lance. Stop daydreaming and give your old mother a hug." 

When Lance opened his eyes, the world was blurry. Soft tears rolled down his cheeks when he blinked. "Mama." 

His mother had aged since the last time he’d seen her, the salt and sun wrinkling the brown skin around her eyes and the slight pooch of her jowls, but her eyes were still just as blue and smiling as ever. She wrapped him up in an embrace that squeezed the breath from him. “Welcome home,  _ mijo. _ We have missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too, mama.” He squeezed back just as tight. “It’s good to be home.” 

Trembling hands wrapped around them both and a wet kiss landed on his cheek. He unburied himself from his mother’s shoulder and turned to see his grandmother already crying. 

“Abuelita.” The tears came harder and he pressed into the two women, like a ship coming to harbor. Safe and weary. 

She pulled him away from his mother and gave him a hug of her own, frailer than his mother but no less warm. When she held him at arm’s length, her eyes shone with pride. “Look at you,  _ estrellita _ . You grew ten feet! Like a weed!”

He kissed her. “I don’t think I grew, I think you shrunk.” He lolled his head to the side to eye his mother. “You, too.”

His mother swatted him on the arm. “Put your things in your room and wash up, then I will make you coffee.”

Lance practically groaned at the thought. “Thank you mama.” He kissed her and then his grandma and then them both again until they were laughing. When they both swatted him away his work was done.

He turned and for the first time, remembered that Keith should’ve been there but wasn’t. “Where’s Keith?” he asked the room.

“Did you leave your familiar outside?” His mother frowned sternly. “Does he even know he is allowed in the house?”

“I thought he was in here. Silvio took him…” Lance sighed. “I better go find him before anyone gets any ideas.” He squeezed his grandmother’s hand and jogged through the kitchen where food was simmering and baking away. If he turned right he’d be headed for all the bedrooms, but he didn’t hear any voices from down the hall. He skidded against the blue and yellow tile and headed for the back door.

“Keith!” Lance called as he opened the door. Ducks quacked at him and scattered, angry about the sudden intrusion. 

“Over here…” Keith’s voice called back, distracted and strange. 

When Lance circled around the back of the house, Keith was standing next to Silvio who was filling a large tub from the well pump. Keith looked up at Lance, a little lost. “He said I needed a bath before I would be allowed in.”

“Silvio, he’s not a cat. He isn’t going to get dirty paws on the tile. Now, go help mama in the kitchen.” Lance pulled Keith by the elbow. “Don’t listen to him, he’s never met a dragon before.” 

“Neither had you, a few months ago,” Keith pointed out. 

“Yeah, well.” Lance tugged him back into the house. “Now I have and I know you don’t need a bath to come inside.” He said the last part a little louder and aimed at his family.

Keith seemed hesitant, but followed along as Lance half-dragged him inside and back to the main room. His mother and grandmother turned as they entered, eyeing Keith with kind, if perplexed, smiles. 

“I found him,” Lance announced. “Abuelita, Mama, this is my familiar, Keith. Keith, my grandmother, Maricela and my mother, Yelena.”

Keith bent at the waist in an elegant bow, pressing a hand to his chest. “May stars illuminate your path. It is an honor to make your acquaintance.” 

“Isn’t he charming?” Maricela said, clutching her chest. “Sit sit. Lena, get him some coffee,” she said to his mother.

When Keith straightened up, Yelena wrapped him in a snug embrace that made him squeak a little in surprise. He looked over her shoulder at Lance, eyes round. “Welcome to our home, Keith. Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring us all coffee and we can chat.”

“...Um. Alright. Thank you.” Awkward and stiff, Keith sat directly on the rug where he was standing. 

“I have to say,” Maricela said around a grin missing a single tooth. “When we got the letter that our  _ estrellita  _ had summoned a dragon, I certainly did wonder what you looked like. I did not expect a handsome boy!”

“I. Uh.” Keith colored a deeper red than Lance had seen in a long time, looking between his grandmother and him as if debating whether there was a right or wrong response to that. “I’m definitely a dragon. I just thought it would be polite to not be. Um. Large.”

Lance tapped Keith on the shoulder. “You can sit at the table.” Keith scrambled to his feet to sit in a chair.

“That’s right, you’re family now,  _ mijito _ ,” Maricela said, setting a cup on the table.

Keith took a tentative sip, then a decidedly larger one. “This is really good.”

“I can see that you like it.” Yelena rested her cheek in her hand, smiling playfully at him. 

Keith frowned in confusion before he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked over his shoulder. His tail was out and wagging behind him. “...Oh. I’ll just.” In another moment, his glamour dropped entirely, the air around him rippling as his wings and horns came back into view. 

Both women glanced at each other before they started laughing. Keith slid in his seat a little, embarrassed. 

“We always knew Lance was special, but never in our lives did we think he’d be bringing home a dragon!” 

This was a topic Keith was more comfortable with, if the relaxed smile he gave Lance was any indication. “He is special.” 

“We could tell, despite how glowing his letters were about you, that he was still worried about how much you liked him.” Yelena handed a cup to Lance and sat down heavily at the table. “Our Lance worries too much.”

Keith blinked at him. “You wrote about me?”

“I write about everything,” Lance muttered. “Hey, mama, what’s for dinner? I was hoping-”

“Oh, he wouldn’t stop writing about you.” Yelena sipped on her coffee, hiding a devilish grin. “He raved about how amazing you were and told us that James wouldn’t stop bugging him to borrow you.”

There was a pulse of surprise in their bond, yellow and confused, but Keith’s face stayed neutral. “I would never work with anyone but my Master,” he said smoothly. 

“Oh, Keith,” Yelena said, patting him on the hand. “Don’t worry,  _ mijito _ . He’s told us all about how loyal you are.”

Keith’s ears pricked forward and he unfolded just a little. “He did?”

“Oh yes, Lance sends us a letter every week like clockwork.” Maricela stood, using the table as leverage. “I’ll go get them. We’ve saved them all.”

“No, no, no. There’s no need for that, Abuelita. Why don’t we go outside? Maybe the beach…” His grandmother left with a chuckle and a dismissive hand. “...Or my funeral, that’s good too.”

Beside him, Keith was quiet, staring at him like he was trying to catch Lance’s eye. 

Lance did his best to be very interested in a knot on the table until his grandmother returned.

“Here they are,” Maricela said, setting an open chest in the middle of the table. “Most of these are from before your summoning, but-” She pulled a bundled stack, tied with twine from the top of the pile. “This is where you come in.” Maricela handed the bundle to Keith.

Keith glanced at Lance again before untying it and picking up the letter on top. The handwriting was neat, definitely the script Lance used for his formal writing. It was a stark contrast to Lance’s scribbled notes stuffed into his workbench. They were sorted by date. This one was the most recent, talking about how excited they both were to visit. Boring.

He shuffled through them to the bottom, morbid curiosity driving him to the end of the pile. There, his summoning.

Keith frowned.

Exclamation marks littered the page. It hurt to look at how excited the paper was. Bolded words jumped out at him about how wonderfully they got along and how happy Keith was to be summoned by Lance. Their relationship exaggerated to the extreme. 

He knew Lance could feel his confusion, his spark of hurt. Pangs of  _ this isn’t right  _ and  _ it wasn’t easy but we worked hard to get here and we should be proud,  _ were overshadowed by,  _ he’s your Master, do what he asked.  _

Keith smiled up at Yelena. “One of the happiest days of my life.” 

Lance sunk a little lower in his chair. “This is really unnecessary.” 

“Nonsense,” She said to Lance and turned back to him. “Here, Keith, look at this one. It’s my favorite.” Yelena took the stack and flipped through it to hand one of the letters over. It was after the High Spring Ball. The usual exaggerations were there. Apparently, in this life, Lance’s best friend was James. He paused as a paragraph caught his eye. 

_ “Keith’s human form is quite convenient,” _ it started, dry and matter of fact. “But I had no idea he’d be so good at dancing. It was thrilling to be in a dragon’s arms. And, mama, he wore the ribbon I bought for him. The one I’ve been saving up for. It was so pretty in his black hair. It makes me want to buy him more.”

Keith sent him a sidelong smile. That, at least, he could tell was genuine. He turned his smile back up to Lance’s mother, but his words were for Lance. “I’ve worn it every day since. Even when I’m working. It makes me feel like he’s still close by.”

Lance groaned and sank deeper. “ _ Please _ can we do something else, now.” He was sure that his embarrassment was leaking through and the permanent burn on his cheeks when Keith was around blazed red-hot. 

“Okay, okay,” Yelena relented, but gave Keith a wink. “Come find me later and I’ll show you the rest.” 

“Mama!” Lance whined, but Keith only laughed. 

~🍄~ 

That evening, Lance’s sister Rachel and his sister-in-law Lisa returned from the neighboring village where, Lance explained to Keith, they functioned as the only midwives. Convenient, since Lisa was decidedly pregnant. They presented her and her unborn child with the ‘Magerium’ medallion, and she seemed grateful and pleased. If anyone was grateful, it was Lance, who held Keith’s gaze as he told him through the bond. Keith’s lips twitched in a smile, and he nodded back. 

The whole family - besides his father and Luis, who were still at sea - had moved to the back yard to roast one of the pigs in celebration of his return and as an early birthday. Silvio had raised it, and stood teary-eyed over the pit as everyone gathered on a blanket, crammed together and excitedly chatting. 

Keith had been extremely quiet. Not that he was typically a boisterous talker, but Lance had caught him looking more than a few times while he told another of his exciting fabrications about their lives. He didn’t seem angry, and their bond was steady, but he looked…

Well, if Lance didn’t know better, he might call it “sad.” 

“Tiiooo,” his little niece, Nadia, whined from her aunt Veronica’s lap. “How come you just make bottles all day? When do you go fight bad guys?”

Technically he had fought bad guys, but their recent escapades didn’t fit neatly into the narrative he’d created for himself. Hesitating, he decided it wouldn’t hurt. “Well, the King did send me on a special quest to kill a water hag, but that story is boring. You’d rather hear about the hundred bottles of stink rot I had to make.”

Nadia and Silvio both cried “What’s a  _ water hag _ ?!” at the same time as their aunts and grandmother, albeit in very different tones of voice. The two youngest Fuenteses crawled closer to Lance, their excited faces illuminated by the roasting fire. 

Lance grinned and leaned in too. “She came at me, ROAR!” Hands curved into claws, he jumped at them. “But Keith turned into a huge dragon and ate her.”

Silvio scoffed. “Keith’s not a  _ real _ dragon. He’s just a person. He’s not big enough to eat anyone.”

Keith, hitherto quiet, raised a thick eyebrow that made Silvio look just a little cowed. 

“That’s because he can use glamours. Your eyes aren’t powerful enough to see through it, so he doesn’t look like a dragon to you.”

Nadia pursed her lips, her whole face pinched. Finally, she turned to Keith. “Did she taste bad?”

Keith stole a glance at Lance, thick with the urge to talk, to figure out what was going on and why they were lying  _ this  _ badly. Instead, Keith turned to Nadia and stuck his tongue out. “ _ So  _ bad. Like pond scum and sweaty stockings. But it was the least I could do. My Master has saved my life from dangerous things plenty of times.”

Lance blinked at him. He had no idea why Keith was playing along so cooly. He’d completely forgotten about the discrepancy between his real life and his fabricated one; it’d never been a problem before because there was never someone who could discredit him. He shouldn’t push it. He really, really shouldn’t, but he  _ really _ wanted to know what Keith meant. “Oh, do you want to tell us about one of those times?” 

Keith glanced around, realizing he had a captive audience in every member of Lance’s family. He sighed, quiet enough that only Lance could hear, before his face changed, became animated. 

“Where do I even begin, Master? There was the giant spider - yes, you heard correctly,” he assured Nadia after she gasped. “It was the size of a barn and was rampaging through the village where Master was delivering healing balms. I tried to fight it on my own, but it spit acid on me and I couldn’t fight  _ or  _ fly. If it wasn’t for Master stepping in with his water magic, I would be spider food for sure.” He paused, gauging their reaction, and decided to continue. “And that was one of the easier ones! What about the time we saved that villager and his son from the man-eating frost plant, Master? And I was trapped in the mud?”

Well, it was a little over the top, but Keith was pretty good at this. Lance wasn’t sure if Keith was mad at him or not, it was hard to tell. Maybe if their bond wasn’t so broken… “Yes, that’s actually one of my favorites,” Lance said and he meant it. “He’d sunk into the Mogmire because he didn’t study.” He wagged his finger at Nadia and Silvio. “That’s why you should study your primers. Now Keith can flit through a bog without wetting a toe.”

Silvio rolled his eyes as Keith mumbled, “ _ Flit  _ isn’t the word I would use.” 

“Now you’re just making things up to make us do school and wash our hands and things like mama.” 

“It’s true though,” Keith cut in. “Master tried to tell me and I didn’t think I needed to listen. And it got me stuck in the mud up to my neck. And while I was stuck, a woman came looking for help. There was this huge, carnivorous plant tearing through the forest. It had her husband and her son trapped, and it was coming our way, shooting ice all over the place. If your  _ Tio- _ " There was an awkward pause before and after the word and it sounded more like a guttural growl, the same way he spoke the dragon language, but it still made Lance’s heart flutter all the same. "-Hadn’t trapped it in a giant bubble - Stars, I’d probably be buried in the mud and those poor people wouldn’t have survived. And  _ then,  _ he was brave enough to cut off all its poison arms and vines to make more potions!”

“Ohhhh,” Nadia and Silvio said in unison, eyes huge.

Keith leaned forward as if sharing a secret solely with them. His scales glittered in the firelight and his wings cast a shadow over them that held them in a sort of spell. “My Master - your uncle - is the bravest person I know.” Keith must have purposefully opened their bond as wide as he could when he said those words, because Lance felt a ripple of sincerity that told him Keith meant every word. 

Lance didn’t know what to do with that. He stared at Keith with the same expression as his nephew and niece. This was all supposed to be his ideal life which he very much did not lead, so why did this thread of truth almost hurt? Lance stood, not sure why he did so. “I have to - I’ll be right back.” He smiled, thin and quick, before turning around to walk past the pit where the pig roasted. 

Vaguely, he thought maybe he would go inside just to get away from the smoke and closeness of the fire, but he bypassed the house and kept walking. His feet followed a natural path they remembered well, winding through the last few houses to the wooden pier that cut across the seagrass and dunes toward the tide line. As he stepped off the last board into the loose sand, he stopped to kick off his shoes and unlace his tights so that he could feel it against his bare feet. 

It was a lot, being back. Specifically, being back with Keith. This used to be where he’d come to forget about his life at the Magerium and create his own; now there was someone always around to remind him that everything he said was a lie. 

The waves crashed in, low and rhythmic in their nighttime patterns, and the wind off the water was thick with natural salt and slightly chilly. 

He touched his chest, rubbing the spot where the bond would ache from time to time. Keith had meant it, that much was true. It wasn’t even that he was one of the bravest or bravest besides Shiro. Keith had said what he’d meant, but this whole time all Lance had been was a coward. A coward who couldn’t even tell his family the truth. 

Wandering closer to the wave line meant the sand was compacted and damp, and every backward drag revealed hundreds of wriggling, pastel periwinkles that immediately dug themselves back down. A scallop next to him clapped twice to scare him away from its hollow, shooting little jets of sand over his toes. It was easy to see it all with the bright full moon, and out beyond where the waves were breaking, it reflected on the depthless black of the ocean. 

Lance sat down on the wet sand. He could feel Keith following the thread of their connection and hovering just out of reach, hesitant to approach. Had he closed Keith out so much that Keith was scared of him? Lance didn’t want to be that kind of person and he didn't want to be the kind in his stories either. For once, he wanted to be himself. 

Lance poked at a clam and it snapped closed. He was tired, he decided, of doing the same. 

Opening the bond as wide as it would go, he beckoned for Keith to come closer.

A minute or so later, Keith was stumbling over the sand at his back and sitting down next to him. He started to say something, but the words died as he looked out over the ocean. 

“...Wow.” Keith exhaled softly. “That’s the sea. The actual sea.”

Lance sat back, palms digging into the damp sand. “Yeah. Pretty, isn’t it?”

Keith shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve spent all this time trying to puzzle out exactly what it is you smell like, and I could never figure it out. I would know it anywhere, I could pick you out of a crowd of thousands while blindfolded just by following your scent. It’s this. It’s the ocean."

"There's no way that I smell like the ocean." Lance huffed a laugh. "I spent all my life in the Magerium. I think I've only been home a handful of times, including this." 

“It’s not like it sticks to your clothes or anything. I think it comes from within you.”

It was hard to think that something as vast and beautiful as the ocean was contained inside him. Lance reached with his feet until his toes touched the froth of the surf. "You can smell that? Inside me?" 

Keith shrugged. “Hard to explain. ‘Smell’ and ‘sense’ are kind of the same for me sometimes. I guess it’s a dragon thing. But - yeah. It’s everywhere around you.”

Lance couldn't help but sniff his arm to see if he could smell whatever it was that Keith could. He did smell the ocean, but he couldn't not since he was sitting at its edge. 

Keith chuckled and shook his head. “Not like that. It’s...it’s inside your skin and your breath and it’s the bright blue in your eyes. I just never knew it until now.” He turned to smile softly at Lance in the moonlight. “No wonder you’re a water mage.” 

Red and flustered, Lance wrapped his arms around himself. “You say that a lot." It seemed like Keith had never gotten over Lance being a water mage and was always trying to reason it out. His eyes were blue because his mother's were, not because the ocean was inside him. Half trying to prove his point and half trying to make Keith blush as hard as he was, Lance asked, “Are the sands of the Burning Wastes as golden as yours?”

“I, uh,” Keith replied, and looked bashfully down at the sand. “Wouldn’t know.” 

“Hm.” Lance’s eyes crinkled and he leaned into Keith’s shoulder. A curl of joy from Keith's reaction twisted around his heart. 

He sat there absorbing Keith's warmth and listening to the wind over water. They'd sat for a quarter candle mark in comfortable silence before Lance sighed. “I guess you found me out.”

“What do you mean?”

Lance stared at the ripple of the moon on the dark waves. “You know what I mean.”

Keith sighed, using his tail to push the sand around idly. “It’s no business of mine, and I don’t blame you. I’ll stick to whatever it is you’ve told them. I know it’s important to you.”

“Why, though?” Lance turned his stare onto Keith. “Why go along with it?”

Keith returned his gaze, open and intense. “You know why.” And if there was any doubt, their bond swelled with honey-gold.

The surge inside him made Lance want to turn away and hide. He forced himself to meet Keith’s eyes. As immoral as he was, Lance wasn’t going to brush Keith in those colors. Keith had told him that all he wanted was to serve and be his familiar, nothing more. And Lance had been satisfied with that,  _ relieved  _ about it. He wasn’t going to read into it and see what wasn’t there. “Yes. I know.”

Keith’s eyes went back and forth, searching between Lance’s for understanding. “No, I don’t think you do,” he countered. “So why don’t I just tell you? Would that help?”

“But,” Lance said, slow and measured as he replayed the memory of them in their own garden and Keith’s words  _ ‘This. I want this.’ _ There was no way he was mistaken. “You already told me.”

“But I don’t think you heard.” Keith reached forward to cradle his face with both hands, gold eyes glowing dimly in the moonlight. 

Lance wanted to argue, to prove he  _ had _ heard and there was no mistake, but something in Keith’s voice stopped him. “Then, why?”

Keith sucked in a breath of salt and let it out on a shaky exhale. He squeezed his eyes closed, then forced him open, glowing brighter from within. “Remember you asked me to explore things for myself, to be myself, to find out what it is that I want and to pursue it?”

The tight string of tension inside Lance loosened. He’d thought...but of course it wasn’t that. “Yes.” Lance couldn’t stop his grin if he’d tried. “Did you find something? Whatever it is, I’ll help.”

Before Lance had even finished speaking, Keith tugged him forward until they were nose to nose, practically burning Lance with the intensity of his gaze. 

“What if it’s you?” His breath was soft against Lance’s lips, and feverishly warm. “What if the thing I want most...is you?”

Lance sucked in the smoke-tinted air that was Keith’s breath. His heartbeat so fast it ached. Keith’s dream came back to him, swift and sharp, and overlaid with reality. It was just like this, this close, before dream-Lance had done what Lance himself would never dare. “I- What am I supposed to say to that?”

Licking his lips, Keith frowned and sat back, putting a little bit of distance between them. Lance immediately regretted opening his mouth. 

“Nothing. I - nothing. But that’s your answer.”

“What does that even mean,  _ me?  _ I’m not an avocation.”

“It means I’ll do anything. Everything. If it’s you, that will always be my answer. Because  _ I want you _ .” Keith looked up at him, brows knit and eyes searching. “Not just as my Master. I want you in the way you say the Magerium and your goddesses forbid, that I’ve spent my entire life witnessing between Shiro and Adam. I just…” He broke off, voice thick. 

“Like your dream.” Lance wasn’t looking at Keith anymore. He was back in his head, back in Keith’s dream. Despite his efforts to forget it, all it did was haunt him. It took over all his senses, overlapping with the memory of Keith sleeping, moaning Lance’s name so sweetly into his bedroll. He blinked, unseeing, as realization ran cold down his spine. 

“My dream?” Keith asked in confusion, but their bond was wide open and flashes of it, images of the two of them pressed together, moaning, kissing, burst between them. Keith recoiled a little and averted his eyes, but didn’t move away. “Ah. I...don’t remember that. But...yes. Like. Like that.” 

Of all the things Keith could ask of him, there was very little he’d say no to. Why this. Why was this what Keith requested.

“But, you’d said.” Lance was already warm from the memory and shame pooled painfully in his gut. “You  _ told _ me you didn't want more. You  _ said _ you understood.” Lance finally turned back to Keith and his eyes were as dark as the ocean behind him. 

“I did! I said I wanted a life, together, with you! No big adventures, no high court, just us!” Keith shot back, but at the look in Lance’s eyes, their bond constricted. Keith was breathing hard, and his face was a lacework pattern of cracks about to shatter. “You said we couldn’t ever be together like that, and when I broke inside, you said you  _ didn’t _ mean it like that! So  _ dammit _ , Master, what  _ do  _ you mean? Just. Just!  _ Tell  _ me so I can get the broken part over with and maybe try to move on!”

“I didn’t! I don’t. I-” Lance stared at him, mouth agape. Strings of fear and panic held him silent. Strings because Keith had almost closed off the bond, almost shut him out. But it wasn’t as simple as Lance wished it could be. Unlike Keith, his magic came from the Goddesses and while rare, they could take it away. He had so little already and without it, he wasn’t even sure if he’d get to keep Keith. Something, even this, was better than inviting the wrath of the Goddesses. That was if they survived the Magerium first. 

With bond and hand, he reached out, hovering and not quite touching. An invitation, not an invasion. “Keith.” And even to his own ears, it sounded like a rejection. “I - you said I was enough the way I am.”

Keith looked at him, their bond already bleeding with pain. “You are. I meant that you don’t have to lie or try to be a different sort of person, or any of that. The person you are is more than enough. The person you are is who I can’t li-” He bit down hard and glared at the sand. “I thought we finally understood each other completely.”

Lance knew that he’d told Keith as clear as day that without his faith he wasn’t whole. So why did Keith keep pressing it? “I am not separate from my faith,” he told Keith again, and for the first time in his life he wished he could be someone else. Someone who could ignore the teachings and go against the Goddesses. 

“And because your faith forbids it, we can’t ever be together,” Keith finished for him, emotionless, staring off into the sea. “Is that correct?”

The ocean had never betrayed Lance, not once in all his years. Now was no different. It churned, dark and distressed. 

“Yes.” 

Silence. 

Almost desperate, he was quick to add, “But we can always have this.”

Keith laughed - a dry, hollow, bitter sound - and as he did, the bond between them slammed closed. 

Lance gasped at the loss, as if Keith had stolen the breath from his lungs along with the bond. To have Keith shut him out...it felt like payback. Cold and final. 

He deserved it. 

Standing from the sand, Keith kept his gaze trained on the dark horizon as he spoke. “I’d like to be alone tonight.”

Lance gripped the sand in balled fists to keep himself upright. “All night?" 

“I’ll be back in the morning, and your family will never know the difference. I’ll keep up whatever charade you like.” He looked down at Lance, and for a moment, his eyes shone through with an unspeakable pain. Even without the bond, it was easy to read.

_ Don’t let me go,  _ they begged.  _ Please ask me to stay.  _

For the life of him, Lance couldn’t open his mouth.

As soon as Keith blinked, it was gone. Then, formally, he bowed. “Goodnight, Master.”

Granules of sand dug into Lance’s skin as he clenched his fists, it was the only thing stopping him from begging for forgiveness. All he'd ever asked from Keith was to speak his mind and now that he was, Lance had to accept his words. He would honor them. “Goodnight,” he said, his words were swallowed by the tide. 

Keith turned and walked away, leaving behind nothing but strange footprints in the sand. 

~🍄~

It was one of the longest nights of Lance’s life. The bond stayed cold and silent the whole time. He'd lived his whole life without a bond, so why did it feel impossible to live without, now? 

Half-sleep was all he could coax from his body. Nightmares came for him that night. He was a child again, pressed up against the wall as James stole his breath, strangling him until he passed out. Fear, that this time he wouldn't wake, always the last thing he remembered before he would blackout. The scene melted away and reformed. This time it was Lance choking Keith, crying as Keith begged him to open the bond. Begged him to stop as he died slowly under his fingertips.

Then it was Lance who couldn't breathe again, but it was Keith's kisses stealing his breath. His lips trailing over invisible scars. Kissing the open wound of his mana and the faded memories of the Elders’ harsh words and cold stares. A kiss to heal every fractured crack in his soul. 

After that, he couldn’t sleep.

True to his word, Keith was back before dawn of the following day. He found Lance sitting up in bed, hugging his knees, dried salt on his cheeks. 

"Good morning, Master. Time to get dressed,” was his only greeting, accompanied by that same cold and formal bow from last night. 

By the time that Lance was dressed, his wounds were invisible again, washed away by water and covered by neatly combed hair and a false smile. It was fine. Lance knew how to play this role perfectly. 

As he’d promised, Keith’s behavior betrayed nothing. He was as pleasant and polite as he had been the day before, and seemed pleased to be allowed to help serve and clean up after breakfast. He spoke quietly with Lance’s mother and sister-in-law, and even offered to repair a few things that needed looking after in lieu of Lance’s father. 

He had not reopened the bond, so it was impossible to tell what he was really feeling. Not that Lance couldn’t make a solid guess, but now that he was used to feeling everything Keith felt right along with his own emotions, the loss of that ability was like losing one of his senses. The whole morning, Keith had said nothing more to him other than a curt, “Yes, Master” or “No, Master” in reply to any questions. 

Veronica was the only one who seemed to pick up on Lance’s distress. She had been staring at him all morning, her eyes boring holes into his back wherever he moved. It wasn’t at all surprising when she piped up with, “Why don’t we go down to the beach today? I think these two monsters could stand to burn some energy, and Keith, you said you’d never seen the ocean before now, right?” 

Keith nodded. “Yes, that’s correct. I caught a glimpse of it last night.”

She turned to Lance and smiled. “What do you say,  _ hermanito _ ? Sunshine and sand and a healthy bit of sunburn on that washed-out skin of yours?” 

Lance didn't want to think about that. He wasn't in the mood for sunshine. All he wanted to do was go to bed. A smile plastered on his face, he nodded. "That sounds wonderful. Why don't we pack some of that leftover pork?" 

Veronica's frown deepened and Silvio popped in to pout. "His name was Tubtubs." 

"That's why I told you not to name it. Come," Yelena said, pulling Silvio away. "Why don't we add Tubtubs to the family altar?" 

After some sniffling and a brief family prayer to Mairo, goddess of the hearth and home, to ensure safe passage to Tubtubs on his way to be with their ancestors, they packed a picnic and set off for the shoreline. Nadia and Silvio had apparently decided that Keith was their new favorite playmate, and Keith went placidly along with whatever they wanted. At present, that meant hanging one of them off of each arm to their wild squeals and giggles. 

The sea was miraculously calm. It was a bright, sunny day with perfect blue skies, fluffy white clouds, and enough of a breeze to keep them from sweltering. Lance and Veronica stretched a blanket out on the sand while the children tugged Keith towards the water.

Before he left, he turned his empty gaze back to Lance. “Do you have need of me at the moment, Master, or shall I go with them?”

"Have fun with them," Lance said with all his sincerity. Without the bond, he could only hope that the message came through. 

Keith bowed again and stripped his tunic, folding it neatly on the blanket before the kids dragged him to the water. 

Veronica tugged off her own tunic and loose pants, left only in her bindings and smallclothes. She stretched out on the blanket with a content sigh. Lance watched his nephew and niece race. He tried not to watch Keith. 

At the edge of the water, Nadia and Silvio had run crashing into the surf, but Keith had skittered backward as the foam came in. His tail thrashed and he seemed to have an internal debate with himself. When the water receded, he took a few steps forward, only to bound backwards again at the next wave. 

As the children giggled and beckoned him forward, he glanced left and right down the deserted beach before shifting into his primal form. That elicited shrieks of delight, and they wasted no time clamoring on top of him. The next wave got his claws wet, and he started to wade out, giving an almost birdlike call when an unexpectedly high one got him wet up to his chest. 

It was soft and perfect. So why was he so miserable? 

Sloughing off his clothes, Lance threw them into a pile at the edge of the blanket, felt guilty, and started folding them. At least Keith looked like he was having fun. Lance longed to feel it for himself, the thrill of meeting the ocean for the first time. He'd been looking forward to it, planning on bringing Keith here to feel it vicariously through him. Instead, they were here and Lance had to watch from afar, cut off. 

Nadia had wrapped herself around the base of Keith’s neck and Silvio was attempting to stand on his back as Keith pushed valiantly through the waves, shaking his snout in annoyance whenever the spray caught him in the face. 

They lay that way for a quarter candlemark or so, the only sounds the breaking of waves and the children’s distant laughter. It wasn’t until Veronica sat up to take a drink from her flask that she broke the silence. 

“So,” she said casually. “Any particular reason you’re so upset?”

"I'm not upset." Lance knew this was coming, could feel it in the air. Still didn't mean he wasn't going to try and avoid it. 

“We can spend a little more time pretending that’s true, or we can just cut to the part where I know you’re lying and you might as well fess up.” 

Lance huffed, turning away. "You wouldn't understand anyway." 

She flicked her flask, splashing him with a few drops of water. “Try me.”

"It's a mage thing." Lance pulled the droplets off and threw them back with a few more he'd conjured himself. 

“Well,” Veronica huffed, wiping her face with her hand. “This is a big sister thing. A ‘for some reason, I love you and care about your well-being’ thing.”

It would be nice to tell someone else. To not have it all piled up on his shoulders. Despite the fact that the Magerium had risen the age of summoning and Lance was well into his twentieth year, about to see his twenty first, he’d never felt like he was good at this whole having a familiar thing. He’d never gotten down the commands or sorted out the feelings or figured out how he was supposed to act. It all felt like he was playing dress up as an adult, pretending to be someone wiser than himself. “I don’t deserve it.”

Veronica rolled her eyes and muttered something, of which only ‘ _ Estrellas, denme fuerza _ ’ was comprehensible. “Lance. Out with it. Or I’m going to start guessing and you’re not going to like that.”

Lance hugged his knees, nails digging into the soft meat of his legs. “It's my fault. Everything…” He took a breath that didn’t fill his lungs. “Everything is my fault.”

Her arm was around him in an instant and her voice was soothing and soft. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think you’re  _ that  _ powerful. Whatever it is, let’s figure it out, okay? Just talk to me.” 

Lance unfolded and sunk into her embrace without even thinking about it. It wouldn’t make sense if he told her what was wrong, since she believed his letters, so he had to start at the beginning. Confess his sins. 

“I lied. Everything isn’t- Keith doesn’t- I hurt him and I don’t know how to fix it.” Ugh, he couldn’t even get his words to come out.

“I figured as much,” she said into his hair, petting it exactly like their mother did. “Anyone with eyes and half a brain can see something happened between you two last night.”

“It’s not just last night. We’ve never - you have to swear not to tell anyone, Vero. Especially not Abuelita.”

Her hand paused in its motion for a moment before resuming. “I promise,” she said sincerely.

Sighing, Lance pulled back. “I botched the summoning. Er, well, the bonding I guess. It’s been rough to say the least. I summoned a dragon! Me! I had no idea what I was doing and-” he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars. “I hurt him, shut him out. Now he’s shutting me out because…”

Nadia yelped and Lance glanced up to see Keith flying into the sky only to dive down into the ocean like a winged dolphin.

“Back up, little brother, I’m not a mage.” She caught his eye and smiled. “Take me back to the start, okay? Tell me everything.”

So Lance did. From the moment he’d summoned Keith instead of the toad he’d written home about, sure he would get. How they never really got along. Lance spent a good amount of time explaining bonds and what exactly familiars did in the more technical aspects. That James was in fact  _ not  _ his best friend and that Keith had saved him multiple times from humiliation from the bastard. He didn’t dare look at her face. Lance refused to see the disappointment there. 

He still didn’t confess about the cottage and getting banished; he glazed over that to focus more on how Keith’s feelings were changing. How his own feelings were changing. How scared he was of those feelings. 

“Then last night, he told me that he didn’t care about the laws or the Goddesses. I know he doesn’t like that part of me, I  _ know _ it,” Lance said into his knees. “He wishes I didn’t care. I can tell. But I do care, Vero. It’s the only thing I’ve ever known. It’s all I have besides you, our family.”

It was a lot to process, and Veronica took her time, even if it killed him to wait. She never stopped stroking his hair or holding him, and when he was done, she sat back and smiled at him. “First of all...I suspected your letters were at least partially made up. No one’s life is that perfect, Lance.” 

"I thought I did a good job with them," he grumbled. 

“More importantly, we wouldn’t have loved you any less, or been any less proud. I wish you’d had a little more faith in us. It might have saved you a lot of energy.” 

"I know." The problem was that he hadn't actually grown up with his family. He'd left so young and lived most of his life at the Magerium, it was a miracle he even still had a connection to them. Most mages grew apart from their families. It was his mother's tenacious personality that had held them all together through the years. Maybe it was because his family was used to people being away at sea. "I'm sorry. But, I'm still not ready to tell everyone." 

“Whenever you’re ready.” She kissed his temple. “Now that’s done...I’m going to need help on this whole dragon thing. So you and Keith never got along, but now you’re friends.”

"We were. At least I thought we were." Lance pulled at her hair, running his hands through the short, thick curls. It had been past her waist when they were younglings. She was the reason he had become so skilled with braiding. "Until, well, this trip to be honest. He had a dream about me the night before we arrived. I shouldn't have looked, but our bond was only starting to mend, I didn't want to hurt it."

Veronica started to frown. “Go on.”

"I saw the things he wanted to do with me." Lance twirled her hair around his fingers. "He confirmed it last night. Told me that he wanted more." He brushed his lips with his free hand. "He's mad at me for it." 

Her fingers dug in a little too hard. “Lance, no one has the right to make you feel bad if you don’t return their feelings. I don’t care if he’s a dragon, a person, or a rock, he doesn’t get to be mad if you turned him down.”

“I know, you’re right, but-” He turned, eyes pleading. “It seemed...nice. If he wasn’t my familiar… I might want it, too, even if he is.” He bit his lip and turned away, bracing for a reprimand. 

It never came. Instead, Veronica chuckled. “Aw, Lance. I don’t blame you - he’s very pretty. Think I might have a chance if you don’t want him?”

A chill dropped down his spine at the idea of Keith with Veronica. “No! Definitely not. You wouldn’t want him. He snores and kicks in his sleep and he smokes when he’s upset and sometimes lights things on fire when he sneezes. Trust me, you don’t want a dragon.”

“Oh?” They both looked out over the ocean, where Keith was fishing Silvio out of the water by the seat of his pants, delicately clutched between his front teeth. They seemed to be heading inward again. “Tell me some more about him.”

“Why are you so intent on this? I thought you were helping me with my problems.”

She shrugged. “Humor me.”

Wary, Lance tried to think of anything else that would make Keith sound unappealing. “He spends way too much time in his little workshop, sometimes all night. There’s whole days I don’t see him. Not to mention, sometimes he burns the fish when he blows too hard. One time he fished out a whole school only to burn them all. I had to eat charcoal fish for a week,” Lance said, but his voice had changed. There was a distinct smile running through the undercurrent of his words. “And all that hair is so much upkeep and he doesn’t do a thing for it. I always have to brush it and pin it up for him. He’s also way too fast to put himself into trouble for me. Jumping headfirst into danger before he can even think it through.” 

Keith emerged from the water and shook himself all over, spraying Nadia and Silvio, who laughed. His great wings stirred the sand when he flapped them before he knelt and shifted back to his more human form, pulling the curtain of black hair over his shoulder to wring it out on Nadia’s head with a smile. 

“Mmhm.” Veronica agreed easily. “That all sounds really terrible. Maybe he is too much of a nuisance to keep around. No wonder you shut him out.”

Lance scoffed, eyes locked on Keith. He followed the shining droplets down his muscles; the ocean looked good on him. “That’s not why. He’s not terrible, either, just a lot. There’s a lot to Keith. You could probably spend your whole life learning about him and there would still be more. He does glasswork,” Lance said, forgetting he was trying to convince his sister not to be interested. “Delicate figurines. It’s really beautiful, you should see it.”

“Well that is impressive.” They both watched as Keith closed his eyes and the water began evaporating off of him as steam. 

Entranced, Lance licked his lips. “Keith is very impressive.”

The three of them made their way to where Lance and Veronica were sitting, the two children kicking up sand as they ran and Keith following behind at a more reluctant pace. Silvio crashed to his knees by their bag and dug around until he pulled out a bottle of salt.

“Keith is  _ actually a dragon,” _ Nadia informed her aunt, who chuckled and glanced up at said dragon, casting her into shadow. 

“Yes, I can see that. What did you think of the ocean, Keith?” 

Keith raised his eyes to her, momentarily lit and sparkling, clearly excited. Then they flicked over to Lance and then back to the ground, his face smoothing back into neutrality. “It is very refreshing. Very salty. Thank you for asking.”

Lance tried to catch his eye, to make him look in his direction even for a moment. When Keith’s eyes stayed firmly fixed to the ground, Lance pulled his knees close again. This time, it was to hide his hand rather than comfort himself. With a quirk of his finger, he pulled all the saltwater off Keith’s wings and into his palm. Keith glanced at them, and then, briefly, back to Lance. He inclined his head in polite thanks. It only left Lance wanting more.

“We’re going to teach Keith to find clams,” Silvio announced, shaking his salt bottle. “Tio Lance, you wanna come? Tia Veronica says they’re too slimy to look at for her.”

_ Yes  _ was on the tip of his tongue but one look at Keith’s face killed it. He swallowed. “No, I’m still tired from my trip. Maybe if you’re nice, Keith will cook some for you.”

Silvio looked at Keith, wide-eyed. “Whoa. I didn’t even think of that.”

Keith smirked at him before turning back to Lance. “Do you need to go back and rest? Do you feel alright?” For a moment, the softness was back, that gentle brand of fuss and worry that Keith always carried when he was seeing to Lance’s needs. He must have caught himself, because he ended with a clipped. “Master?”

It hurt to hear them juxtaposed next to each other. To see the remnants of what they’d been cut off by the ashes of what they were now. “If I do, Veronica can take me.”

Keith should have protested, should have stood his ground and insisted that he was Lance’s familiar, it was his job. The fact that he only nodded his assent? That, more than anything, was the most telling sign of just how deeply shaken Keith must be. 

Lance leaned into Veronica, pressed against her side as he tried to bury the pain.

“Come on!” Nadia tugged at Keith’s wrist, and he turned his back on them, allowing her to lead him back to the surf. Silvio caught up with them and started launching into an explanation of how to tell which clams lived in which holes and other information Keith was never likely to need again. 

“That,” Veronica said softly, “was hard to watch.” 

“What was?” Lance asked numbly, staring at Keith’s back.

She nodded towards Keith’s retreating form. “That. It’s clear as day you two care about each other, and I would bet every ship in the harbor that he loves you. You care about him, and might be willing to be with him romantically, if he respected the Way of the Goddesses. Which he doesn’t. Am I right?” 

Stars, Veronica was always so straightforward. Lance could feel the heat pooling in his cheeks. He pressed himself into her chest and mumbled, “That, and we could both be put on trial by the Magerium. That is, if Hoile doesn’t strip me of my magic first.” 

Veronica’s brows pinched. “That doesn’t sound like the Goddess I’ve been raised to love. She specifically chose to offer magic to humanity, and to bless them with familiars so they would always have someone to walk the path with. I’ve never heard anything about magic being taken away because someone loved their familiar  _ too much _ . What in all hells are they teaching you at that fancy school?”

“You’re not a mage. I told you you wouldn’t understand.” He sat up, breaking away from her embrace. “The laws are very clear, I’d be risking us both. What if by taking my magic away it means severing my bond? I’d go insane and Keith would go feral. I can’t risk it. We’re enough like this. It’s enough. It has to be.”

Refusing to be rebuffed, Veronica reached forward to rub his back. “Okay,  _ hermanito,  _ you know better than I do. I just don’t think I’m the person you’re trying to convince here.”

Lance found Keith picking through the sand next to Silvio. Just as Lance once did as a very young child, Silvio showed Keith how to pour the salt into the little keyholes in the sand. Keith’s face actually lit with a smile when the thin body of a razor clam pushed itself out of its hole in front of him. The sun on Keith’s red scales was almost too bright to look at directly but it wasn’t as bright as his smile. Lance tried to turn away, to look at anything else besides Keith.

It was impossible. It didn’t matter where Keith was, Lance’s eyes always found him, whether he wanted to or not. It was a magnetic pull. Even with the bond closed tight, Lance knew that Keith was still on the other end of it and it directed Lance to him. It was both a comfort and a curse. 

“What would you do?”

Veronica sighed and ran a hand through her curls so that they stood up, her eyes out on the horizon. “Honestly? You were right, I’m not a mage, so I don’t understand. And I know you’re only here now and then, but Mama still gave you the same lesson. ‘Start and end with love, and everything in between will work itself out for the best.’ I think that’s how she and Papa have stayed so in love all these years, no matter how long he’s away.”

“What if I lose him?”

“What if you don’t?” she asked softly, trying to catch his eye. “You’ll miss out on a lot if you spend your life being afraid of what might happen.”

The problem was that he had spent his whole life afraid. Afraid of the Elders and the other children and himself. It was all he knew how to do. “It’s too late. He already shut me out.”

“Talk to him. Ask him to talk. I’ll take the kids. But you have to try. But before you do…” Veronica eyed him sternly. “You need to be ready to say exactly how you feel. Or at least ask him for time to figure it out.”

“Time?” Lance laughed, short and harsh. “You definitely don’t know Keith. He can’t wait for tea to boil.” But the decision had already been made inside him. Lance knew he couldn’t live like this, couldn't handle a lifetime of  _ ‘Yes, Master’ _ and  _ ‘No, Master.’ _ He needed the fiery spark that was his dragon back or it would be as good as a severed bond. The Magerium couldn’t hurt him as much as Keith’s cold words. 

“At least give him a chance, yeah?”

“Mm. Thank you.” Lance nudged her and smirked. “And if you tell anyone about this I’ll tell Abuelita you were kissing that girl from Daibazaal at the market.”

“Aha!” Veronica laughed brightly. “Joke’s on you, little brother, she already found out and invited her to dinner. So which one of us is doing worse, huh?”

Lance pouted. “I’m always the last to find out everything.” 

~🍄~

They gave the kids another candlemark to play while they caught up on more mundane things, then Veronica shouted down the beach for them to come back up. 

“Why?” Silvio whined when they were close enough. “Keith was going to cook the clams we caught.”

“He can do that at home, I’m sure. Would you, Keith?” She turned a smile on him and he nodded.

“I can. We just need a little open space.”

“Won’t taste as good if we’re not on the beach,” Silvio grumped, but he helped his sister bundle up their toys since the clams were now living in the bucket they’d brought down. 

“See you two for supper, yeah?” Veronica asked brightly, then hurried the kids along before anyone could protest. 

Lance stood next to Keith as he watched his sister leave. His heart pounded in his ears and he didn’t dare look up. “You can go with them, if you want.” 

Keith shook his head. “It’s my job to stay close to you.” 

Nodding, Lance took a step back, and then another. Veronica had set this up for them to talk but now that he was alone with Keith he had no idea how to start that conversation. All he’d done all day was sit in the blazing sun and watch everyone else enjoy the ocean. 

One quick dip to cool his head, then he’d talk to Keith.

“I’m going to swim,” Lance announced, turning on his heel and sprinting over the sand. As soon as it turned hard and wet, he threw off the top of his smallclothes. He didn’t know where it landed as he waded in up to his waist and dove. 

The ocean welcomed him like an old friend. His mana sparkled with excitement as water flowed over his skin. Above him, the sun filtered down in blue rays, and particles danced in its light. His heart still pounded in his ears, but that was a problem for later. Now was freedom in his element. No wonder Keith slept in the fireplace. If he could sleep in the ocean, he would. 

Lance let himself sink deeper as he relaxed, pushed and pulled by the current. His hair washed in and out of his eyes. It tickled his shoulders as the ocean breathed. This was love. This was pure joy. Maybe Keith was right, maybe it was in his very skin. The salt stung his eyes, but he ignored it. He needed this. Without Keith, this was the second best way for his mana to recharge. Not that he’d used much, but he was so exhausted from everything. If only the ocean would swallow him forever and then he’d never need to make any decisions. 

Down there, it was easy to lose track of time, to feel himself dissolve into aquamarine. At some point, he felt a touch of apprehension, followed by a burst of outright fear.

It felt good, almost euphoric. Keith had opened the bond again. His water-addled brain cheered to be connected again despite the electric emotions being filtered through. It made him want to expand, to drift off into seafoam, and stay forever. He tugged on the connection, pulling Keith to him. If Keith were here, he’d be complete, whole again.

Then strong hands closed around his shoulders and he was being hauled out of the water. The shock of air and heat had Lance gasping.

Keith adjusted his grip and flapped furiously to keep from falling in the water himself, and half-dragged Lance through the surf to the sand. Immediately, his hands were everywhere, checking Lance over. “Master! Are you alright? Can you hear me? Breathe, come on, come back to me.”

Lance was panting in his hands, sucking in lungfuls of air. They ached after not using them for so long. He opened his eyes and was blinded by gold. Blinking to focus, Lance realized he was staring at Keith. A very upset Keith, but everything was so perfect, he couldn’t figure out why. Still heady from his swim and mana still bubbling happily inside, he covered Keith’s hands with his own.

“I know why, Keith. I  _ know why. _ ”

“Why you’re breathing?” Keith demanded hotly. “Yeah, idiot, because you need to or you fucking die! You were under there for  _ five minutes _ !”

He shook his head. “I just needed time. I still need time.” Stars, how long had it been since Keith had touched him? He squeezed Keith’s hands so he wouldn’t move.

“No way am I letting you back in there! You can commune with the ocean or whatever out here, but I’m not going to sit on my ass and watch you  _ drown _ .” Now that he knew Lance was safe and alive, Keith’s breathing was slowing and the bond was constricting back down to nothing. 

Crinkling his nose, Lance grinned. “I can’t drown.”

“Huh?” Keith blinked, then, “Oh. Right. Water mage.” He cast his gaze to the sand, obviously embarrassed for not having thought that through, then back to their joined hands with suspicion. “Well, then, have fun. You’re safe. I’ll leave you be.” The bond was nothing but a hair’s breadth by the last word. 

_ Now _ Lance felt like he was drowning. He grasped desperately onto the thread, thin as a whisper. “No please, Keith. I know why, please. Just. If you give me time. Please.”

The bond didn’t close off. That last thread remained, and through it, Lance felt Keith’s suspicion, his confusion, his anger, his hurt, his fear. There was that sweet gold, too, but it was gasping to exist under all of the rest. He eyed Lance warily as a shadow fell over them both. “What are you asking me for?”

Lance held onto the frayed edge of the bond, soaking in the connection. The giddiness of the ocean was fading and reality was harsher for its absence. He sat back, but refused to let Keith go. “I talked to Veronica. About you. About us. This.” He looked up at Keith and he was backlit by the setting sun and outlined in oncoming storm clouds. “I want to talk to you about it, if you’ll let me.”

Keith sighed and some of the anger fizzled out. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m sorry I was short with you. You don’t owe me any kind of explanation. I just...need to get over it. Okay? I respect your choice.”

Veronica was wrong. Lance had lost his chance. He’d realized too late that Keith was worth the risk and this was his punishment. 

When the first tear caught in his lashes, a drop of rain fell on Keith’s nose. Thunder rumbled distantly over the ocean as Lance’s heart broke. “If they found out, I could lose everything, including you,” he said, voice pulled by the wind. It stirred Lance’s bangs and tugged uselessly at Keith’s heavy braid. 

Keith frowned down at him. “I wasn’t going to tell anyone. Did you really think I would? Besides, it’s only me. They couldn’t punish you for that.” 

He swallowed. “I know you wouldn’t. That doesn’t mean we wouldn’t get caught. It doesn’t make it any less of a sin.” The rumble of thunder overshadowed the sound of the waves crashing in, wild and frothy. It made the wind wet with brine that stung as it rushed by. Keith glanced up at the sky in concern and then back down to Lance, but Lance pushed on. “It doesn’t put you in less danger.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Keith yelled back over the roar of the ocean. “I told you, we’ll drop it. We’ll never talk about it again and I’ll get over it with time. So you’re safe, I’m safe, everyone’s safe. Why are we even talking about this now? We need to find shelter!”

“Not until you agree.” Lance shook his head, refusing to move. Lighting clashed overhead and the thunder followed, loud and rumbling.

Keith turned his fierce golden gaze on Lance. “To what?!”

“To talk to me!” 

The spider’s web of a bond between them stung with hurt and desperation, but Keith’s eyes were on the sky again and he shook his head, wet bangs plastered against his forehead. “Fine! Shelter first, and then we talk!”

Lance didn’t want to find shelter. He didn’t care about the growing storm but Keith wasn’t having any of it. With a sigh, he pointed to a far corner of the beach. “There’s a fishing hut over there.”

“Come on.” Keith yanked him to his feet, grip tight on his wrist, and started jogging for it as best he could over loose sand. It was pockmarked everywhere with brown as the rain pelted it, and even as they ran, Keith’s wing lifted to cover Lance on instinct. 

They ran until their original spot at the end of the pier was barely visible in the grey onslaught. The fishing shack sat back from the shoreline only by a few feet, set up on posts above the waterline, and had the corpses of what had once been fishing boats either broken in the sand around it or tethered and knocking against the dock in the waves. Keith pulled Lance up the sandbank that bordered the front half and leaned his weight against the weather-worn door. It groaned for a second, then slammed open. 

Inside was almost more threatening than the storm without. The knocking of the boats outside was louder and eerily rhythmic, and various rusted hooks, chains, and harpoons hung from the ceiling. An old fishing net was caught on one of the upper beams and swayed like a wayward ghost. Keith sighed and slicked his hair away from his face. 

“Cozy,” he remarked dryly. “Good place for a chat.” 

Lance shifted their grip so that he was holding Keith’s hand. “We could always walk back to my house.”

“Once this lets up a little.” Keith’s eyes were on the place where their hands were joined and his face pinched. “Just...give me whatever pity speech you’ve prepared so we can be done. I don’t know how many times you think I need to hear ‘no’ but for the record, I heard you loud and clear the first time.”

Lance did his best not to let that rile him up. He deserved every word of it. “It’s not a pity speech.” The rain battered against the old wood and a few of the hooks swayed. “I just- I’m sorry. There aren't any laws or guidance for this kind of thing. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Neither do I,” Keith countered peevishly, trying to tug his hand free. “It’s not like you to try and - and - I don’t know, rub it in my face. I’m humiliated enough already.”

“If you’d listen!” Lightning punctuated Lance’s sentence, casting harsh shadows across the inside of the shack. “I’m trying to tell you, don’t you see? I’ve  _ been _ trying to tell you. You asked me if I knew why and I  _ do,  _ but you never listen because you’re a stubborn furnace!” He tugged hard on Keith's hand and he wasn’t sure if it was his heart or thunder in his ears. 

“I want you too,” Lance said, and it was quiet, almost covered by the pounding rain.

Keith stiffened, and his head snapped up. “What?”

“I want you, Keith.” And this time he pushed that terrified and shy rosy pink feeling through the last strands of their breaking bond. 

“But…” Keith curled in on himself, looking dazed. “But you said.”

“Tell me. Tell me if I chose the Goddesses over you, would your feelings change?” Because that was what it came down to in the end. Lance choosing between Keith and the Goddesses. Keith and the Magerium. Keith and everything he knew. If he was going to choose, he needed to know that Keith chose all of him back and not just parts.

“No,” Keith said softly, eyes on the rotting floorboards, green with algae in their knots. “That’s the problem. I know it sounds stupid, but I just...know. It’s never going away. The best I can do is push it down and pretend.” 

“I’m sorry.” Lance stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on Keith’s cheek, urging him to look up. “I’ve hurt you more by trying to protect you, to protect myself.”

That touch seemed to shatter the last thing holding Keith’s resolve together. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch and made a soft, urgent, whimpering sound. The bond blew wide open, dazzling as a sunrise, and the force of his emotions had moved beyond lava, had moved beyond flames. The whole of it together - his fear and pain and the bright, raw light of his feelings for Lance - was nothing less than a conflagration. 

It stunned Lance into silence. He stared agape up at Keith, mouth working but no words coming out. This was not something Keith could’ve hidden and it would be a true sin to ignore it, no matter what the Goddesses or the Magerium said. To ignore it would be sentencing Keith to a type of death more cruel than the loss of life. It would be like losing his soul, his fire. 

Lance started when something wet rolled over his fingers. Tears. Keith was crying.

This wasn’t like the muffled, shaky tears he’d shed when Lance couldn’t see him, sheltered by his own wings in the dark of the cellar. These were fat, rolling tears that mingled with the seawater and rain on his face as he looked up at Lance with desperate gold eyes. 

“I-” He tried, but was cut off by his own sharp inhale. “I’m _sorry._ I’m - so - sorry. I tried _so hard_. I swear I did, for so long, but I _couldn’t_ anymore \- and you - you’re -” That was as far as he got before he broke down on a sob wrenched right from his throat. 

Lance pulled him in for a tight hug. Wrapping his arms protectively around Keith, he sheltered his head with his hand and tucked Keith into his neck. “I’m sorry,” Lance muttered into his ear, over and over. He’d done this. No one else. This was his fault and he had to take responsibility for it. “I got you. I’m here.”

“I tried,” Keith repeated into his shirt. “I tried.”

“I know.” Together they sunk down to the damp floor, clutching each other. Lance stroked his hair and held him as he sobbed, railing at the universe because this  _ just wasn’t fair.  _

The touch only seemed to spur Keith on, and he half-screamed into Lance’s shirt, almost as if he was just desperate for an outlet after so long of holding it in. Keith had been trying to store a waterfall in a milk bottle, and this was the result. 

Lance had no idea how long they sat in that rotten fishing shack before Keith’s wretched sobbing finally quieted into hitching breaths and sniffles. He sat even longer, not sure how to break the silence. The rain outside turned into a shower, the thunder and lightning dissipating into the night. 

“If you want,” Lance finally said, and it was too loud in the small shack, “we can go home.”

“No.” Keith’s voice was thick and stuffy, muffled into Lance’s tunic. “That would only make it harder. And we came all this way. You need time with your family.”

Lance pushed him back, urging him to sit upright. He refused at first but relented, lowering his face to hide the streaks of tears. Lance ran his thumb over them. He hated himself for letting it come to this, for not talking to Keith until he was sure they both understood. 

Neither of them could run anymore. He ran the back of his hand up Keith’s cheek and washed it clean. “I hope first that you remember that I feel the same. You’re special to me, Keith. More than anyone in the world. I can’t live like that, not anymore, not now that I know what an open bond feels like.”

“You feel the same,” Keith repeated. He looked up at Lance, peering as if he could discern the truth if he looked hard enough. “You’re sure you feel the same way about me that I do about you?”

There weren't words that would convince Keith. Lance knew this because there weren't words to describe what Keith felt for him. So he closed his eyes and let the pink rise to blossom inside him, pushed it to the fore, and let Keith examine it as much as he wanted.

He could feel the warm gold poking around, swirling through him and mingling the colors together until Keith sighed. “Okay,” he said at last. “I believe you.”

It felt like he’d passed some kind of test. Lance exhaled slowly, relieved. “But I don’t think you have ever seen what you’re asking of me from my perspective. If I told you to give up your fire, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. That’s what you’re asking from me. My world, everything I’ve ever known or believed, you’re asking me to cast aside without thought. I can’t do that. I could never do that.”

Keith bit his lip. “But I don’t understand. I - I don’t disrespect your beliefs, I swear. I just...I don’t understand how it can be so bad. Adam and Shiro raised me, and they love each other more than anything, and Anny and Ori, too. Why is it wrong? Why is it so sinful or evil or whatever else?” 

“Shiro?!” Lance practically screeched. He gaped, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. Keith flinched and scowled at him.

“Yeah? I don’t know how you could have missed that. They’re old as dirt and they still fuck like rabbits any chance they get. It’s nauseating.” 

“But-” Lance blinked rapidly, thoughts whizzing by. All the times he’d interacted with Shiro he’d never...His puma was barely ever around and when he’d visited they seemed like a normal Magi and Familiar. “But he’s the King’s Mage!” 

“So?” Keith countered. “He’s just a person. He can fall in love like anyone else. It’s not like we get to choose.”

Keith had mentioned another couple. Their names sounded vaguely familiar and he tried to place them. He came up empty handed, but that didn’t change the fact that there were more. “How many?” Lance wondered out loud. He felt so foolish. It was like when the other kids would make fun of him for following the rules to their games, only to change them so that they would win. 

“I don’t know, but that’s not really the point. I just need you to explain why following your beliefs means you can’t be with whoever you want.” Wincing, Keith tried to backtrack. “I don’t mean it as a challenge. I know the Elders don’t like it. But I’m really asking - what are you so afraid of?”

What was he  _ afraid  _ of? Lance did his best to push down his shock. Keith really did come from a different world. Where did he begin? Lance sighed. Keith probably didn’t even know about the creation of magic. 

“Um, Hoile gave humans magic as an apology for the destruction her sister did to the world. She-” He bounced, trying to keep his mind from reeling. “She gifted the Magi that helped her with a Familiar, and that Magi was the first king of Highmount. Hoile told her that the Familiar was a sacred beast that she could care for, but would have to return upon death. So she had to treat the Familiar like they were the Goddess herself and to do  _ that _ with a Goddess is unthinkable. It would be a desecration. If the Magerium found out…”

Keith frowned. “Yeah…?”

“Well, then Hoile would take you back. I’d lose my magic, the Magerium…Well, they never said exactly what the punishment was, but if they were willing to put you under that cursed collar, I’m sure it’d be ten times worse.” Lance was rocking, trying to soothe himself by petting his arms. 

“Oh.” Keith looked to his right, where a floorboard was missing. The water level must have risen again because little laps of seawater licked through the hole now and then, and rain was lashing the single window once more. “Shiro never said. Just that our family always had to stay a secret. I knew, sort of, that he and Adam were a secret, too, but I just always assumed the problem was...you know...me.” He sucked in a breath. “So he’s been in danger for over twenty years?”

“If what you say is true, then, yes. Especially as King’s Mage, that-” Lance bit his lip, trying to remind himself to be gentle. “He’s in more danger than we would be.”

The wood of the shack groaned in the increased wind while they sat in uncomfortable silence. 

“...I didn’t know,” Keith said quietly. “I’m sorry I pushed you. I just. Didn’t know.” 

“It was my fault. I knew you hadn’t been taught in the Ways of the Goddesses. I’d thought you understood that we couldn’t be more. I thought we both understood how we felt but had decided we were content with just knowing. Instead, I assumed and I hurt you.” 

Keith dug at the wood with his claw, scratching lines into the rotted grain. “For a while I thought you were trying to toy with me. Or punish me. But I also knew you would never do that on purpose.”

That hurt. Of all the mistakes Lance had made, not once had he ever tried to hurt Keith on purpose. He watched Keith scrape at the wood, thunder rumbling in the distance. “Have I ever punished you?” 

“No,” Keith agreed. “But I’ve never fucked up this badly before.”

“I’m not going to punish you!” Lance slammed his hands against the floor, frantic. “And I’d never play with your emotions to punish you.” How could Keith think so badly of him?

Keith looked up and reached forward, mirroring the way Lance had cupped his cheek. “I know,” he said soothingly. “I know. I was just hurting. I  _ am  _ hurting. But at least I know the reasoning behind it now, and understand why.”

“I don’t know what to do, Keith. I don’t know anything except that it hurts not to touch you and hold you and then when I do, it hurts you.”

“I don’t think I could live that way either,” Keith admitted. “Last night was awful.”

Lance crept his fingers across the floorboard until they bumped into Keith’s. “Where did you go?”

Flipping his hand, Keith pressed his own fingers into Lance’s palm. “...Not sure, really. I walked for a long time, just, down the road. Eventually, I got too tired to walk anymore and found a rock. Laid down there, used it for shelter. Couldn’t really sleep. So sometime before the sun rose, I walked back.” 

“What do we do?” Lance whispered, staring down at their hands.

“I...I don’t know. Do what you wanted us to do, I guess. Try to stay content.” Even his tone of voice sounded as miserable as the idea. 

“Maybe I could have before, for a while, but it was never a permanent solution. It always would’ve ended up this way. With both of us hurt.” Lance fell forward, exhausted, onto Keith’s chest. “I can’t be strong anymore, I’m too tired.”

Keith ran his fingers through Lance’s wet hair and scratched lightly at his scalp. “...We do live awfully far away from anyone who would care. The only people who know how to find us are Shiro and Adam, and Caleb.”

“What if Hoile takes you away?”

“Then.” Keith kissed the top of his head. “I’ll put up a fight. And claw my way back. I’ll tear this whole fucking world apart to be with you if I have to.” 

Lance clutched Keith’s tunic and buried his nose in the fabric. “Stay with me tonight.”

“Whenever you want me,” Keith replied earnestly, pulling him close. “I’m yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ON TO THE EPILOGUE
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	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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Epilogue

Mid-Summer 

When they’d returned, Veronica had a very knowing smile ready for them. It lasted the whole week of their visit, but Lance couldn’t find it in himself to mind. It was hard to mind anything with the way he’d catch Keith looking at him, soft and helpless and incredibly fond. Her smile stayed in place even as they left with tears and hugs and bittersweet goodbyes. Another year past, another year before he’d see his family again.

Their first night back, Keith crawled into Lance’s bed, curled up beside him, and they were both asleep in minutes. Between the events of their trip, the emotional toll, and the actual exertion of the trip itself, they were both too exhausted to really make note of it. 

Before the sun peeked over their window sill, Lance was out of bed. Restless and too full of energy despite his rough trip, there was something about being home that made him want to get to work. The garden was calling his name and he’d missed his herbs dearly. Quiet, so as to not disturb his soundly sleeping dragon, Lance slipped out of the room and padded down the stairs. 

It was nice to be home without any expectations on him. Even the mist was welcoming. Lance kept himself busy, weeding and pruning. Sometime in between the musk blossoms and feverfew, he decided to make fresh summer tea. All the herbs were dry from their trip, and if he started now he could have it chilled by mid morning. 

To Lance’s relief, Keith was still sleeping well after the sun had reached its highest peak for the day. He’d worried that his dragon would wake up before the tea was done and ruin the surprise. 

Lance poked his head into the dark loft, mug of summer tea burning cold in his hand as he tiptoed across the floor. He held the mug up to Keith’s nose as he knelt down next to the bedroll. It twitched twice as he sniffed before blinking his eyes open, groggy and dazed. 

“Mmster?” he slurred. 

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead.”

Keith sat up, hair stuck to his face and in his mouth. “Is it late?”

“Fairly.” Lance nudged the mug into Keith’s hands and didn’t let go until he was sure his grip was secure. “Did you sleep well?”

“Dunno. Feel like m’still ‘sleep.” Keith blinked his eyes a few more times and then seemed to realize he was holding something. He brightened a little. “This smells good. Did you just make this?” 

“Mm.” Lance nodded. “Try it.”

Keith took a slow, noisy sip. Hummed in pleasure and drank more enthusiastically. “You should make it every day. What is it? I love it.”

“Summer tea. Mostly lemon verbena and mint with a touch of anise hyssop, then steeped in a cold spring. I can make it for you as much as you like.” Lance's fingers curled around the linen, trying not to show his excitement that Keith liked it. Their bed furs were finally packed away. In a few months they’d have to bring them out again, but at least they’d switched, even if it was late. The soft linen wrinkled easily in his grip.

“Mmm.” Keith closed his eyes to taste it, then opened them with a smile. “Tastes like home.”

Lance’s knuckles brushed the side of Keith’s thigh through the cloth. “Take your time. I’ll be in the garden.” His hand dragged across the bed as he stood.

“Wait!” Keith's shout scared Lance and he half jumped. 

"What? What's wrong?" 

“Oh. Um.” Keith paused and looked around, then back up at Lance with an apologetic, crooked smile. “I, uh. Actually can’t think of any excuse for you to stay. Sorry, I’ll just. Get dressed.”

Lance rolled his eyes. "Do you want me to wait for you and we can go to the garden together?" 

Keith colored and looked into his tea. “Ah, no. I’ll be there in a bit...thanks for the tea.”

"You're welcome," Lance said with a crooked smile. Keith was so easy with his emotions. It made Lance a little jealous. He took a moment to watch each one pass over his face, tangled hair falling in clumps around him "And bring your brush." 

Keith was dressed and in the garden shortly thereafter, but with his hair in wild disarray. He yawned wide and snapped his jaw closed, taking another long sip of tea and blinking against the sun. He found Lance’s head sticking up from behind the pointed tips of the horsetail. He was sitting on the little stool Keith used when he washed laundry, digging through the soil.

“I can’t believe I slept so late. I have so much to do. Aren’t you hungry, Master?”

Lance squinted up at him, shielding his eyes from the sun. Streaks of dirt that weren't there before ran across his cheeks. "I've been snacking on the plants." 

Keith scoffed and plopped down on the ground beside him. “That’s not food. I’ll have to go hunting or foraging. I think we used all the milk and eggs before we left.” He glanced around as he spoke, taking in the soft buzz of summer insects and the comforting babble of their nearby stream. Even the mist had burnt off and their little garden was well-lit by the sun through the canopy hole. “You know...I liked the ocean. A lot. But I can’t say I’m not relieved to be home.”

"You just don't like getting wet." Lance tugged on the hem of his shirt. "Let me fix that." 

“Fix what?” Keith glanced down at himself. “Is it ripped?”

Lance quirked an eyebrow. "The mess that you're trying to pass off as hair." 

Keith shot him a glare. “Wow, thank you. And who was it who wouldn’t wait for me to braid it before bed? ‘Keeeeeeith, come to beeed, I’m tiiiiired,’” he mimicked, but handed the brush over with a huff. 

“I don’t remember any of that.” Lance waved him off. 

“Of course not.” Keith settled himself in the space between Lance and the horsetail. The long, hard grass clicked softly in the breeze.

Lance gathered his hair, brushing it from his shoulders and into his hand. The tips of it pooled in his lap. When had his hair gotten this long? “Do you want me to try and find some sheers at the next market?” Lance asked as he ran the brush gently through the tangles. 

Keith tried to glance back over his shoulder. “You don’t like it this long?”

“Hmm.” Lance held the weight of it in his hands, the silky strands escaping his fingers. “Isn’t it getting heavy? How long were you planning on growing it?”

“Oh, I dunno.” Keith took another long slurp of his tea. “Adam only cut it because he didn’t want to fight with it. If you’d rather not, I suppose I can cut it all off.”

“No!” Lance’s grip tightened posessively. “I mean. There’s no need. As long as you like it this way.” He unpried his fingers so that he could section it off into pieces and worked his way up, untangling. 

Keith chuckled but stayed still. “I’m glad. I’d hate to miss out on you braiding it. Best part of the day.”

Lance spent his time slowly and meticulously combing the strands, careful not to snag any of the snarls. It was easy work, even if it was time consuming, but meticulous tasks were Lance’s favorite. He liked to get lost in the repetitiveness of them. Keith’s hair was so soft that it would just fall out of the knots with a little coaxing. 

“If my hair was this nice, I would grow it out too. You’re lucky.” He pushed half of the hair over Keith’s shoulder and set to work on the second half.

Keith was entertaining himself by pulling up Lion’s Teeth weeds and braiding them together. “Your hair is soft and shiny, you could. It would look nice, all wavy and long.” 

“One time I wouldn’t let my mother cut it because I was scared of the scissors and it was so long that it was hard to tell me apart from my sister and  _ trust me _ it does not look nice. It’s curly and everywhere.”

“Awww,” Keith cooed, failing to resist the urge to smile over his shoulder. “Your whole family has pretty curls. I’m sure it would look nice now that you’re older and, you know, sort of vain.”

Lance scoffed and swatted him with the brush. “I am  _ not _ vain!”

Keith was already laughing before the blow connected. “Knew that would get a rise out of you.” 

“Taking care of yourself isn’t vain.” 

Still chuckling, Keith went back to his own braiding. 

Lance sat back and curled a finger around the ends of his hair. “You really think it would look good?”

“I think,” Keith said softly, “you would look beautiful no matter what.”

Tugging his finger out of the curl, Lance huffed. “That’s not convincing.”

“I meant it!” Keith groused. “Fine, yes, I think you would look especially pretty with longer hair. See if I give you compliments again.” 

“Oh.” Lance froze, his belly warming along with his cheeks. Without the ocean to make his hair stand on end it might be worth it if Keith really thought so. 

“ _ Oh, _ ” Keith mimicked back, grumbling to his lap. The bond shivered, and in it Lance caught embarrassment, chagrin. Frustration. 

He picked at the brush, the bristles poking under his nails. He’d done something wrong and now Keith was mad at him. Stars, he was never going to be good at this. 

They sat for another few seconds of silence before Keith cleared his throat, fiddling with the weeds in his lap. “I  _ did _ mean it. I…” He cleared his throat again. “I really do think you’re beautiful. And you’d be beautiful to me, no matter what. Is all. But if you don’t want me to say things like that, I understand.”

“I’ll grow it out,” Lance said, pressing the pad of his thumb into the bristles. “For you.”

Keith sighed and turned, resting his arm and chin on Lance’s knees. His head tilted as he looked up with a small smile. “This is hard, isn’t it?” 

Lance covered his face, hiding behind his hands and the brush. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

There was rustling as Keith readjusted and something light settled behind Lance’s ear. Then, Keith was tugging at his wrists. 

Lance shook his head.

“You’re going to let me go with half my hair brushed?” 

Another shake.

“Come now,” Keith cooed at him. “You fought a giant spider and a water hag in the same night and you can’t look at little old me?”

The hands came halfway down and blue eyes peeked out. “This is a lot scarier than that.”

Keith’s face softened. “I know. Too much?”

He shook his head again. “I keep upsetting you.”

“Ah, well.” Keith gave a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “That’s my fault, not yours. I just got embarrassed, that’s all.” His hair waterfalled across his face, so that his eyes gleamed behind dark strands. 

Not in any statue or any painting or any tapestry had Lance such beauty. It wasn’t fair for Keith to sit there and tease him like that. Overwhelmed and embarrassed, Lance sprung forward out of his stool and into Keith. The stool clattered against the cobblestone and Keith’s hair fanned out around them before settling again. Keith caught him with a surprised little  _ oof,  _ but wrapped him up just as quickly with a quiet laugh. “Well, hello.”

“I want this but I don’t know what this is supposed to be,” Lance confessed into the crook of Keith’s neck.

“I know,” Keith admitted back. “It’s so hard to keep my mouth shut around you. I can’t say what I want and I can’t lie. But we’ll figure it out one day at a time. Okay?”

“How do,” Lance said, pulling one of the strands of hair over to play with. “How do I get better? If it were potions, then I’d practice it until I got it right. I’d study all the ingredients and learn how they worked together. Then I’d make it over and over again until it came out perfect every time.”

Keith leaned back enough to look down at him. “You act like I know what I’m doing. I’m making this up as I go, you know. The best I can do is tell you what I’m thinking, how I’m feeling. I’m tired of hiding it all.”

“I like this!” Lance blurted out and clapped a hand over his mouth.

Keith blinked. Then broke into a wide smile and bundled Lance close to his chest in a tight embrace. “Good. I like this too.” 

Lance mirrored his smile, then frowned and wiggled in Keith’s embrace. “I should get my notebook.”

Keith laughed again, light and airy this time, and only squeezed Lance closer. “In a minute. I’m not done holding you just yet, water mage.”

“But what if I forget?”

“Then…” Keith leaned in and bumped their noses together, looking up at Lance with smiling eyes. “I’ll remind you again. And again. And again.”

Lance giggled, breathing in Keith’s smoky breath. “I’m okay with this-” He was interrupted by his stomach growling painfully.

“Ah. That would be my cue to go hunting, I suppose.” With a quick peck to the top of his forehead, Keith stood them both up and settled Lance on his feet. “Think you can braid this rope out of my way real quick?” 

Reaching around behind Keith, Lance swept all of it to one side and finished brushing out the remaining tangles. Pleating it into a complicated braid to shorten it, Lance tied it off and ran his fingers down the length of it. “Is this good?”

“Perfect. Thank you.” Keith caught his hand and kissed the tips of his fingers, smiling at him all the while. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, there should be a few things left in the larder more substantial than a few plants. Eat something else for me, okay?”

Lance hummed, staring at his fingers. “No bunnies.”

“No bunnies.” 

He watched Keith leave, caught up in his own head. Heat pulsed from his fingertips where Keith’s lips had brushed them.  _ Safe, _ he reminded himself. “This place is safe.” 

Wind brushed past and picked up something yellow that tickled his cheek. He reached up to find flowers slotted into the curls of his hair. Pulling one down, he stared at the ball of Lion’s Teeth.  _ Overcoming adversity and happiness _ , his mind recited to him. A slow and soft smile spread across his lips.

Everything would be fine.

~🍄~

A week later, Keith started acting strange. 

He’d acclimated to getting up early with Lance, but he never rose earlier than he had to. The past few days, however, saw him slipping out of bed long before dawn. When Lance would murmur and protest, Keith would just kiss his hair and tell him to go back to sleep, he’d be back before Lance knew it. He was always waiting downstairs with tea when Lance came down from the loft. 

When asked where he went, he just shrugged and said, “I’ve got a lot to do before fall, I need to be working on it,” or “just hunting and things.” 

Problematically, he’d started getting cranky. 

It was only a few snaps here and there or a whine at something simple. Nothing Lance was too concerned about, though he had tried to help Keith with the chores more and cut back on his lessons, thinking Keith only needed more space. Maybe he was getting sick of being around Lance all the time. But the more space he gave, the crankier Keith became. 

One morning after tea, Lance was pinning Keith’s hair up. Usually, Keith didn’t mind the time it took, always content to sit and enjoy Lance brushing his hair. Not this time. Keith’s leg bounced as Lance tried to maneuver the silky threads into a semblance of a braid as quickly as he could. The brush snagged on one of the loops already woven in, pulling it and unraveling a third of Lance’s work.

“Ugh, just - nevermind, leave it!” Keith grunted and stood, belting his tunic with far more force than necessary. 

Lance half rose from the chair, hesitated, then sat back down. “It’ll get in your eyes,” he said, more to the brush than Keith.

“I think I’ll live, don’t you?” Keith snapped. 

Regret but firm resolution radiated through the bond, which hurt even more. Lance felt like a jar being shoved to the side, always in the way. He held out the ribbon. “At least take it with you.”

Keith took it with a sigh. He glanced up at Lance and started to say something, but shook his head. “Back by supper,” he said, and left, shutting the door too hard behind him. 

Lance cringed as his herb jars rattled. He stared at the door. It was him, wasn’t it? He’d been too forward, too needy. The door didn’t hold any answer so he forced himself to stand. He was sure that with everything they’d gone through, Keith wouldn’t push him aside so easily. Yet, here Lance was, alone, while Keith disappeared day after day.

He wandered out to the garden aimlessly. Had he found someone else? Maybe he’d decided that Lance wasn’t worth the risk. He could understand that. He just wished if that were the case that Keith would tell him. Instead of lying to him. Every day. Lance was sure that Keith knew that he knew about the lies; it was hard to keep secrets through an open bond. Yet Keith was trying. 

Lance sighed and knelt in the grass. The Lion’s Teeth had turned into white puffs. He’d been so distracted by Keith, he’d forgotten to harvest the blossoms. “I thought you said I was going to be happy,” he accused the plant. It didn’t answer. Stupid flower wasn’t any more helpful than the door. He backhanded the weed, scattering tufts of white on the wind. Actually, the wind was picking up.

Looking towards the sky, Lance watched clouds roll in. The summer showers were more frequent recently. He closed his eyes as the first drop fell on his cheek and rolled down the lines of his face. “You seem to be the only one that understands me anymore,” he told the sky.

The last straw in the Keith’s-strange-behavior situation happened the next night. Keith hadn’t even snapped at him that day - just stared vacantly and took forever to comprehend anything Lance said. Then, when he was in the middle of fixing dinner, Keith sat down to chop carrots. And fell asleep. Just nodded off, face-down in a pile of half-cut vegetables. 

Never once had Keith fallen asleep in the middle of his work. He was diligent, and even if he hated what he was doing, he was fiercely proud and determined to see it through and see it through perfectly. For anyone else, falling asleep while making dinner might just be an unusual but understandable occurrence. For  _ Keith _ to do so was well past alarming. 

As soon as Lance turned around to Keith asleep in the vegetables, he dropped what he was doing to rush forward. He shook Keith gently at first and then harder when he didn’t respond. “Keith, wake up. Keith. Stars, please.”

Jostled into consciousness, Keith sat up with a circle of carrot stuck to his cheek. “Huh?”

Relief flooded through Lance and he peeled the carrot off as he felt Keith’s forehead. He was burning to the touch, but Keith was always burning. “How are you feeling? Do you want me to get some feverfew for you?”

“Huh?” Keith asked again, blinking blearily at Lance. “Oh. Fine. M’fine. Gotta just...carrots. Then m’done.” 

“You definitely are  _ not carrots and then done, _ you’re going to bed. I’ll get some feverfew and-” he paused, looking at Keith. “Some mugwort for circulation. You’re looking pale.”

Keith shook his head and stood. “I’m fine. I have to go. It’s not perfect yet.”

“No such thing as a perfect carrot.” Lance tugged on his arm and Keith followed easily. He didn’t seem like he was all there. Lance paused at the bottom of the stairs and looked at Keith again to find him half-lidded and swaying. He sighed and turned them around. “C’mon. Into the fireplace.”

“You can’t sleep in the fireplace,” Keith protested drowsily. “N’I can’t sleep without you.” 

“Shh. You need to recharge.” Lance nudged him towards the flames. “Just for a little while, okay?”

Relenting, Keith crawled into the fireplace and curled up, glancing up at Lance from the tight cinnamon bun he’d made of himself. “Just a little while,” he agreed. “ _ Then  _ carrots.” 

“Then carrots,” Lance agreed. He almost risked putting his hand in the fire just to brush Keith’s bangs from his face. Squeezing his hand, he pulled back. He did what he said he would, placing feverfew and mugwort tea out for Keith when he woke. Then, with a whispered  _ goodnight _ , he climbed the stairs to sleep alone for the first time since their fight.

Keith did not, in fact, carrots again. He slept in the fireplace, dead to the world, and almost vibrating the floor with the rumble of his deep snoring. Even so, to Lance’s disappointment but not to his surprise, Keith was gone the next morning. 

He’d resigned himself to cleaning up the unmade dinner from last night, and had just picked up the last carrot when there was a knock at the front door. 

Lance startled, dropping all the carrots. They rolled across the floor, scattering under tables and shelves. No one ever  _ knocked. _ Shiro had been their only visitor and Lance hadn’t written to him since before. Swallowing down his trepidation, Lance tiptoed to the door to see if he could see through the cracks. Unfortunately, his dragon was very good at carpentry and the door was sealed. 

Holding his breath, he opened the door a crack. “Yes?”

He was met with a face full of flowers.

Lance stared down at it, his held breath ruffling the petals as he exhaled. Of all the things that could be knocking on the door, Lance hadn’t expected  _ flowers _ .

“Oh, too close, sorry.” The bouquet receded to reveal Keith, looking nervous and very shy. It had taken a moment to even register as Keith in the first place. His hair was pulled back from his forehead and slicked down, bundled at the nape of his neck with the velvet ribbon, and he was wearing his official regalia from the night of the High Spring Ball. He gave Lance a small, sideways smile, his face nearly as red as his scales, and then handed the bouquet out once more. “Hi.”

“Keith,” Lance said dumbly. He blinked a few times, trying to puzzle out what he was looking at. He stared down at the flowers and then back to Keith’s uniform and finally into golden eyes lined with dark circles. Cold fear gripped his stomach. “Don’t go,” he said, and it sounded desperate even to his own ears. “I know you’ve been upset with me, but to go back to the Magerium-”

“What?” Keith frowned deeply, then realization lit his face as he reached across the bond. “Oh! Oh, no. Oh, Master, no.” Pushing the door open, he pulled Lance in tight, folding him up with his wings. “Of course I’m not leaving. I just...wanted to ask if you would take a walk with me. But - you know - properly. Like a gentleman, or something. This is the only nice thing I have to wear anymore, that’s all.”

“A walk?”

“Yes.” He pulled back just enough to be able to look at Lance and grimaced. “I’m sorry, I know I’ve been a real nightmare lately, but just...give me a chance to explain. Please?” 

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Not at all.” The bond rippled with sincerity and regret, but also eagerness and hesitation. “I promise. Now, will you come into the garden?”

Keith wasn’t mad at him, he wasn’t leaving. Lance hugged him tight, just to make sure it was all real. Despite the impatience in the bond, he needed this, the contact and the reassurance after weeks of Keith being short tempered and absent. Finally, he let go and nodded. “Sure, we can walk, but I’m only wearing my normal tunic.”

“That’s okay.” Keith brightened and then looked down at himself. “Um. Do you want me to change? I just thought...I thought this is what you do. For the person you’re - you know.” He fidgeted. “Is it bad?”

“You’re as handsome as you were at the ball.” Lance ran the back of his hand down Keith’s cheek. “But this time I get to look.”

Keith chuckled. “I think I looked anyway. That might have been when this started, truth be told. When we were dancing, it was the first time I had seen you look truly happy.”

Lance grinned and nodded at the flowers. “Are those for me?”

“Uh huh.” Beaming, Keith handed them over. “Sorry they’re just wildflowers, but it seemed sort of rude to bring you flowers from your own garden. Plus I think you’d kill me if I touched them.” 

“You’re right.” Lance took them and hid his smile behind the bright blossoms. He held out his hand. “Where to, my charming dragon?”

“Heh,” Keith half-giggled and took it, looking him over with a goofy grin. “Well...I made tea and breakfast, and it’s out here, but I honestly don’t think I can wait for that walk. Can you wait to eat?”

The boiling excitement bubbling through their bond made the decision easy. “I could go for a walk.”

“Okaygreat,” Keith replied in a rush, tugging him forward. “It’s not far. Well. It’s a little far. Farther than the stream, but not much farther than that.” 

He led them beyond their cottage - past their laundry line and their garden and the well he’d finally finished - and along a path that looked as if it had only been formed from recent, repetitive walking. As they walked, the bond shifted from bubbling into nervous excitement, and Keith tugged him a little too quickly at times. The trail curved at a massive oak tree and Keith steadied him by the waist as they slid down a small embankment before coming across a circular grove of willows. It was strange - not only to see them in such perfect formation, but to see them so far from a water source. He wondered if there had been one here once and these trees were all that was left. 

Keith held aside the curtain of lacy leaves for Lance to step inside. “After you,” he said with a bow. 

There was not much to be seen, even if it was quite pretty: just a circle of willows with a mossy, clover-choked clearing in the middle.

“We’re here,” Keith declared. He came up beside Lance and held out a large piece of rope, twisted with so many vines it was indistinguishable from the foliage around. “And  _ this _ is for you.” 

“Thank you,” Lance said, taking the rope. He held it up and inspected it, but couldn’t figure out what it was besides a piece of rope and vine. “It’s lovely.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Pull on it.” 

Lance gave it a little tug. “Like this?”

“No,” Keith said, trying for patience. “Like you’re actually pulling on a rope.” 

Lance tried again, this time leaning his body weight into it, almost becoming deadweight when it finally gave and he fell back on his butt.

The entire moss-covered floor lifted up and fell back. Evidently, almost the entire grove had been a disguise - or rather, it had once been a real grove, but the floor of it was a hidden trapdoor of sorts. As soon as the entire thing fell open, the sky above darkened into navy and lights began to twinkle overhead.

Lance gasped, staring up at the sparkling stars set into a permanent twilight sky. At a tug on his arm, his eyes dragged down to what was hidden below the trapdoor. 

There, carved a few feet into the ground, was a wide pool of water. Stairs were dug into the wall, which had been bricked up with grey clay blocks. The lip of the pool was spilling over with dark blue lobelia bushes all the way around, which twinkled in a way that was absolutely some sort of spell, similar to the enchanted starlight above. There were two carved spouts on either side, feeding water in a merry little splash, which made the pool itself swirl, and to one side, there was a raised, clay-brick square. 

Lance stared at it long enough without speaking that Keith filled in the silence.

“It’s a pool,” Keith explained breathlessly. “The bushes Shiro had to help with. I couldn’t get them to do the dumb twinkle thing. And obviously he did the sky. It only happens when the door is completely open so that no one else could find it accidentally. But uh, everything else...well, you always say how much you miss the bath back at the Magerium, and the creek isn’t big enough to swim in, so I thought...and I mean, it’s all yours, I put in a perimeter alarm so you won’t be disturbed when you... _ if  _ you…” Keith stopped and stepped back, turning to look at Lance, wringing his hands anxiously. “Anyway, I hope you like it. Happy birthday, Master.” 

“Birthday…” Lance repeated mindlessly as he stared open mouthed. “You did all of this?” He stepped out into the grove, turning in a circle.

“Everything but the star spell. Since I’m, y’know, not a light mage. But everything else, yeah.” Keith chewed at his lip. 

Lance followed the curving path that led to the stairs, eyes ever moving. “Tell me the type of soil lobelia like.”

“Damp, and slightly acidic,” Keith answered, dutiful but hesitant. 

It wasn’t just that Keith had built a pool, but he’d put care into the plants. He could see how the soil drainage filtered the water, just like the bushes needed. “Stars, Keith,” Lance breathed out, overwhelmed, and then giggled when his curse matched the sky. Pointing up, he repeated, “Stars.”

“Mmhmm…?” Keith glanced up at the stars and back down. “You just talk about them all the time, so I thought…”

Pride swelled through the bond, warm and spun sugar sweet. “How long have you been working on this?”

“I broke ground before we left, and Shiro rigged the star spell when he was here, but mostly since we got back.” Keith pinched his lips. “I had to work on it before you were up so I didn’t miss out on all my other work. I’m sorry I was an ass, I just haven’t slept much, but it had to be done by today.” He paused. “Your birthday.”

Lance shook his head. “Impossible. The bushes alone must’ve taken, what, at least a month to transplant.”

“A month to grow,” Keith corrected, “in my workshop. They’re really picky, but you have a book I sort of stole about growing things in less than ideal soil. Transplanting was the easy part.” 

The spun sugar pride swirled with pink and filled the entire bond. “You grew them,” he repeated. Lance finally looked at Keith, truly looked at him. “I love it.”

“Yeah?” Keith perked up. “It’s…” He seemed to lose his train of thought, eyelashes falling to half mast as he stared at Lance. “For you,” he finally managed, urgent and quiet. “It’s all...everything...is for you.” 

After all the hardships they’d been through, after all their trials and rocky starts, Lance’s world finally felt like it had shifted into place. He held out his hand.

Keith took it without hesitation. 

“The lobelia are my favorite.” Lance didn’t mean his favorite flower. A lot of thought and work had gone into this, but it was the fact that Keith cared enough for Lance to learn. Learn how to grow lobelia, a flower that didn’t naturally thrive in heavy mist. That he’d loved and cared for each one of those plants; it showed in their leaves, thick with blossoms. 

The bond restricted, too shredded to share the overflow of emotion. Lance squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced. 

“Hey.” Keith ran a knuckle down his cheek, frowning. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

He shook his head. “It’s just tight. I want to share but the bond…” He rubbed the spot over his heart.

Keith covered Lance’s hand with his own. “Oh.” 

“I don’t understand why it’s not mending.” It didn’t make sense, they were closer than ever. Yet day after day it continued to break down. Lance interlanced their fingers, staring at their hands. “It’s my fault. From the beginning, it’s been my fault.”

“It’s not.” Keith smiled at him, a little wistful, and squeezed his hand. “I think it’s been broken from the day we met. Incomplete. We’ll figure it out - but later.” He stepped backwards to pull Lance closer to the pool. “For now, don’t you want to try out your new present? I didn’t dig this out for my health, you know.” 

Worry pressed against the back of Lance’s mind, but he shook it off to follow Keith. He was right, they could figure it out later. After all, they had each other now. “Please tell me you magiced the water to be warm.” 

“Not so much magic but.” Keith pointed to the brick chimney. “You can build a fire in there if you’re alone or I can light it if I’m with you. That way it’s cold in the summer and warm when you want it to be.”

“I bet I wouldn’t even need it if you’re there.”

“Probably,” Keith shrugged. “But it’s wet.”

Lance took the lead, pulling Keith down the steps. Tiny stars glittered in the leaves of the bushes, lighting their path. “You did fine in the ocean. Please? Let’s try it together.”

Keith glanced down and back up. “In my uniform?”

Lance stopped on the steps and Keith bumped into him. “I guess not.” He resumed walking, but slower this time, as if he were hesitating to make it to the bottom. “You’ll just have to take it off.”

This time Keith stopped. “...If I had known  _ that  _ was what you wanted for your birthday, I could have saved myself a month of depressing gardening.”

“Shut up.” Lance tugged on his hand to get him moving again, blush bright despite the dim starlight. Chuckling, Keith tapped him on the nose and started unbuckling his doublet with his free hand.

“Can’t say I mind. I hate this stupid outfit.”

Lance scoffed and turned to march the rest of the way down without him. “I don’t believe that for a second. I’ve seen the way you look at it when you have to put it away.”

“It’s the memory,” Keith insisted, muffled as he shucked the doublet and pulled the undershirt over his head. “Not the outfit. It’s a fond memory, despite everything.” 

The bottom was surrounded by springy moss and more starlit bushes. The stars fell from the leaves like dew drops to dance in the water before fading away. Lance sat by the side of the pool and pulled off his shoes. “That doesn’t explain your face when you first pulled it out. You were so excited.”

“Alright, yeah. I’d been training my whole life for that, and I’d been especially looking forward to the ball.” Keith descended the rest of the stairs, half-heartedly folding his shirts as he went. Next to Lance, he toed off his boots while unlacing his fitted tights. “I had a lot of stupid, romantic daydreams about it as a kid.” 

Lance pulled off his shirt and stared up at Keith. He watched Keith’s muscles ripple with his movements, pulling the skin taught over them. “You always accuse me of having so many expectations of who you were going to be, but this is the first time I’ve heard you have any about me.”

“What? Daydreaming about my future master?” Keith wriggled the tights to his ankles, which left him only in the wraps of his smallclothes. 

“Yes. Exactly that. Was I taller? Did you think I’d be ugly? A woman? Did you give me giant breasts?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Keith rolled his eyes. “Hardly. No, I was the taller one, and I always knew you’d be male. Or I guess I didn’t entertain any other option. Same with your looks. I didn’t waste time daydreaming about ugly masters.” He grinned and nudged Lance with his foot. “I just got lucky on that one.” 

Lance almost slid into the pool to escape his embarrassment. “I guess my vanity paid off,” he mumbled as he unlaced his tights. 

Chuckling, Keith puffed out his cheeks before sliding into the pool, hissing at the chill. He waded over to the brick chimney and wasted no time starting a roaring fire, even if the water was already starting to warm around him. He was back by the time Lance was free of his tights and smiled up at him, his face patterned by the water’s reflection. “Come on, my water mage. Nice and toasty for you now.” 

Lance was curled in a ball, hiding behind his legs. Being embarrassed all the time around Keith was exhausting. He missed the days where he’d freely bathed in the open without thought. “Don’t laugh,’ he said, uncurling his long limbs. 

“On my honor,” Keith assured him, holding out his arms. “Though I can’t imagine why you think I’d laugh at you. I’ve told you - you’re beautiful. Now come here.” Keith tugged slightly and Lance let him pull him into the water.

The smallclothes didn’t hide much of anything and as soon as they were wet they hid even less. Lance didn’t have much time to think about it because from here he could finally see the finished product for what it was. 

The twilight sky sparkled in rosy reds and navy blues above them. Shooting stars fell from the sky to waterfall down the lobelia and into the water, which reflected it all. Lance was swimming in the sky itself. He blinked up at Keith, trying to control himself and not break down into tears. No one had ever made something so beautiful for him. In all his life it seemed like Keith was the only one who’d ever given him these wondrous gifts. Ones that filled his entire soul. 

“It’s-”

Keith wrapped wet arms loose around his waist and pulled them into deeper water. “Mm?”

“I don’t deserve this.”

“You’re right,” Keith said softly. “You deserve so much more. But it’s a start.” 

That couldn’t be right, he’d done so much harm. Lance stared into Keith’s golden eyes, sparkling with stars, and realized that Keith meant every word. 

All at once, the world shifted. 

This was where he’d always belonged; by Keith’s side. Nothing else mattered. Happiness was Keith and a life without him would be dull and hollow.

This whole time it’d always been Keith, and Lance had been blind.

Keith blinked, but his arms tightened around Lance and brought him closer. “What is it?”

Lance’s hands, dripping with water, cupped Keith’s face as he searched for what he already knew was there. “You.”

Around them, the water sloshed gently as Keith brought him closer, flush with his own body and leaned in until their foreheads were touching. He raised his eyes and looked at Lance through his lashes, with every bit of their bond shining through the gold. 

“I told you,” he whispered, fervent and damp between them. “The Old Magic never makes mistakes.”

“I might finally believe you.” 

He was so close. So close, Lance could taste the smoke on his breath, sharp and bright as a campfire. Keith’s pulse beat beneath his fingertips, quickening when Keith closed his eyes to whisper.

“I’ve been yours from the very start, Lance.”

_ His name. _ Lance reached out, pulled Keith to him. All he could think was that Keith was too far away, not touching him enough. He wanted Keith with his entire soul and nothing was going to stand in the way. Not the elders, not the boundaries of their bodies, not even Keith’s dearest Old Magic.

Beneath his hands, Keith  _ gasped _ . Not soft or intimate, but as if he’d come up for air after drowning. He stumbled back a step with wide eyes, then looked down at his own chest where the triple crest of Hoile blazed in bright red. A circle of blue pierced through the water below them, dyeing the stone in sapphire. 

He looked up at Lance in a mixture of confusion and awe. “Are you,” he said, voice cracking. “Are you  _ summoning  _ me?”

Lance’s eyes were nothing but blue light, pupils replaced by the aqua glow of his mana. He didn’t answer Keith as his hands drew runes in the air, water droplets reflecting the light as they fell. The circle around them flashed purple. Swirls of red spiraled from Keith as he began to fade. Ribbons of yellow, white, and green shot from the water to join the blue. They sparked off, raining down on them and ricocheting off the stone. 

The ground began to shake, a low rumbling that made the water lap against the sides of the pool and little rocks dislodge from the wall to patter in the moss. Keith flashed from sight entirely.

The bond snapped, the last ragged thread of it broken. 

The silence was interrupted only by lapping water as it rushed to fill the spot Keith abandoned. A golden circlet of light curled around Lance’s head and he held out both his hands.

The water swelled as Keith’s dragon form burst out, eyes ruby with mana and roaring a jet of fire into the air. He shifted back almost immediately with a swipe of Lance’s hand, and the water he’d sent up rained back down on them both as his eyes faded back to gold and his black hair billowed around him. Between them, red and blue wove around each other into a knot. Their mana formed together, shifting into purple where it touched and lodging itself into their souls. The sigil on Keith’s chest flashed with blue before embering away like parchment tossed over flame. 

Lance’s circlet shattered and rained gold dust around them as his eyes faded back to normal. Lance’s hands fell into the water with a light splash. He stared at Keith as the water calmed. With too many words fighting to get out, he fell back to the ones he’d memorized so long ago. 

“Well met to thee, my Familiar.” No, that wasn’t quite right. “My precious dragon.”

The smile that elicited dawned across Keith’s face, lighting his eyes up in a slow sunrise. “Well met to thee, my Master -  _ ayuravadjek  _ \- my soul cure.” He reached up to cup Lance’s face, running his thumb over the damp skin of his cheek. “As the Old Magic has bidden, I have been chosen as bonded to thee until the ground reclaim my bones. And even if it hadn’t, I would find you and choose you regardless. My life is thy due.” 

Lance ran the pad of his thumb over Keith’s jagged scar. Keith was a bright spot inside him. Unlike the threads of gentle pressure or the flow of thin emotion from their original bond, now he was a brilliant flame next to Lance’s heart. Oh, he’d been so wrong at first. There was no mistaking a complete bond for the fractured one they’d had before. 

Keith pulled Lance’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his fingertips as he continued. “My body, thy vessel.” Kiss. “My service, thy sword.” The last kiss was to his palm, and Keith gently closed his hand into a fist to keep it safe. “My heart...yeah, that’s all yours too.” 

Lance stared at his fist as if it actually contained Keith’s heart. He clenched it, swearing silently to protect this gift. Tearing his eyes away, he found Keith’s and leaned in close.

Voice shuddering, he began the spell, “As the Old Magic has bidden, I bind our fates together until my last breath.” Lance stood on the tips of his toes to press a kiss onto the scar, following it up to the corner of his eye to kiss away a salty tear. “I swear to be your companion and illuminate your path through life so that you are never alone. I will stay by your side like a twin star so that we can walk the path together.” Pressing a kiss in between Keith's eyebrows, Lance said the last words against his skin. “Our souls are now and forever entwined and cannot be severed, not even should death itself seek to destroy us.” 

The world titled as Keith lifted Lance up and spun him around, laughing. The sound was different than he’d ever heard before - pure, uninhibited. Deliriously happy. 

Once more, Keith touched their foreheads together, nuzzling him as his laughter quieted into a peaceful smile. 

Lance didn’t dare close his eyes. He took in every detail he could. Memorized the thin lines of brass in his golden eyes, the peak of his scar, the smell of his skin, the heat of his body. “I missed you,” he said, realization knocking the wind from his chest so that he panted the words. Keith was the other half of his soul. Until this point, Lance hadn’t understood what being whole even meant. It was terrifying. 

“I’m right here,” Keith murmured like an oath. “Right here and we’ll never be apart again.” 

“I couldn’t lose you. I can’t, not now. If they found us - if they took you away-” Lance pressed his face into Keith's chest, reveling in the closeness of skin and bond. 

_ Let them try _ . Keith’s voice was resolute. Protective. A promise. 

It took Lance a moment to realize he hadn’t said it out loud. 

It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to. 

Not now.

Never again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sail: I don't know how to explain how being someone who was told i wouldn't graduate 1st grade, who has such severe spelling dyslexia and learning disorders that i was told i wouldn't graduate hs, that as someone with ADHD and who has been told my whole life that I could never be a writer. to have written a story over 100k words that people actually like and read? i never, ever thought i'd get here. i wish i could travel back in time to show baby Sail that they didn't need to cry over spelling tests because the future exists and the future has built in spell check. all i can say is that, it's because of you. you supporting fanfiction and enjoying this story and reading and commenting and leaving kudos. you, personally, have helped me achieve a dream no one in my whole life, including myself, ever ever thought possible. so, thank you  
> (also any spelling errors in this whole story are all my fault i'm sorry)
> 
> Autumn: I literally don’t know what to say. I know this isn’t nearly as emotional for you guys as it is for us, but ending this book is so bittersweet. I wish you could see the difference between this thing we’ve posted and the draft we originally had. It was 57k and, while not soulless, didn’t have anywhere near the same color or scope. That’s all thanks to you guys and your reactions. We’ve rewritten almost every chapter from scratch, and entire new chunks of story, based on what you guys liked to see, and you did not steer us wrong. 
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for reading, commenting, hanging out with us on Twitter. I’m so stupidly grateful for you all. I hope you’ll come play with us in “Pink Like Spring” and “Lemon Boys” before we jump right back in with Book Two (which now has to be almost entirely rewritten but IT’LL BE WORTH IT).
> 
> play with us on twitter while you wait for book two!!! [Autumn Ignited](https://twitter.com/AutumnIgnited) and [SailUnchartedWaters](https://twitter.com/SailUnchartd)
> 
> Can't wait for more? [check out our info](https://linktr.ee/sailunchartedwaters)
> 
> Update: amazing art by Kinga!!! [check them out here ](https://twitter.com/_kiilea)


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